The Burning Titan: Part I
by MercedesCarello
Summary: (Sequel to The Jaguar) As Mercedes and her squad defend the Wall surrounding Trost, they are stunned by the arrival of a Titan covered in flames. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes. Yet more surprising still – and more troubling – is the subsequent appearance of someone she knew to be dead. A promise has been kept, but at what cost?
1. Chapter 1: Emergence

**A Note from the Author: **Welcome to the sequel to _The Jaguar_! Although it isn't absolutely vital for you to have read it in order to enjoy this, it's heartily recommended in order for many things to make sense.

_The Burning Titan_ is slightly AU/AT, so please be prepared for that. Aside from creative liberties because of that, I've tried to be as factually accurate and in-character as possible. Please let me know if you spot anything I missed, or an area that needs improving. I welcome all feedback. **PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE LIKELY TO BE SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA (AROUND CHAPTER 30 ONWARD); READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

Finally, for the obvious: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan - only my original characters and plot, and the Burning Titan concept.

**Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: Emergence<span>**

One by one, Mercedes and her squad followed that of Squad Leader Brzenska off the top of Wall Rose and down toward the mist below. They hovered in a line stretching across the gate of Trost, just above the thick cool cloud. It was almost impossible to see their targets or anything that could act as an anchor for their lines.

"Hey, rookie."

Mercedes turned her attention to Rico a few meters away.

"You're supposed to be good at the stalk-and-destroy type of attack, right? Why don't you go first and get a picture for us?" The bespectacled, ashen blonde suggested. "We'll judge when to join you by movement of your line."

"Why not," Mercedes shrugged. She continued to lower herself with one line, until what little light came from the cloudy sky disappeared. _Hasn't been this misty for maybe ten years, why now? Can't see a fucking thing._

The Garrison had set up shifts to protect the workers repairing Trost's gate who, despite the help of the boulder Eren had shifted, were often terrorized by Titans. Some had even figured out to climb onto the boulder and squirm desperate hands through the gaps trying to grab what they could. Add to this that she had been put on the fast-track to help bolster the numbers of Elite Squads within the Garrison, and as a result often shadowing Rico Brzenska, it made for some interesting patrols.

Mercedes focused on the task at hand. She moved slowly, relying as much on her hearing as her eyesight, if not moreso. She estimated that of the fifty-meter height of Wall Rose, she was maybe a third of the way down. For the time being she held out a hand behind her so that her fingertips grazed the relatively smooth surface of the Wall, seemingly the only tangible thing left.

_All right, Mercedes,_ she thought. _Is your mental map of the buildings surrounding Trost's gate good enough to suffice for actually seeing them? Otherwise all you're going to be able to work with is the Wall._

She paused when she could hear the sound of bare flesh slapping and slipping on rock, as well as a few gurgles, moans and hisses. It was disconcerting not being able to see their sources, but after a moment's listening, she confirmed that as expected they were to her left. Judging how far down they were – and thus what size – or numbers was a different matter.

For lack of another plan, Mercedes continued to lower herself. The sounds got louder, closer; she could hear a nail or two grating on stone. It made her skin crawl. How much farther would she have to go and how much louder would it have to get? It was so tempting to fire her second line blindly in their direction and hope she hit something.

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, out of the fog loomed the half-finished, dark shape of what must have been a ten-meter class. Luckily its back was to her – it was only a couple of meters away at best. Mercedes held her breath. She rocked back a little until she was crouched on the Wall, and quietly drew her second blade.

Then, she catapulted herself forward and slightly left at the Titan's back, expertly slashing through the nape of its neck until her momentum on the single line arced her back again. She heard it collapse and a moment later, the hiss of steam that disturbed the mist. When her feet impacted the Wall she sprung off it again, headed left to take her across the gate. She was barely able to jerk her body up and over the head of another Titan, and swung by the face of another. As her momentum propelled her toward the Wall she fired her second line at what she estimated was the gate housing, and retracted. Though hands grabbed for her, they were uncertain, neither party able to get a good glimpse of the other before the fog consumed them both.

Mercedes landed on the boulder that blocked the entrance to Trost. She thought she heard the lines of the rest of the two squads being deployed, but couldn't be sure. The fog made all of her senses suspect.

Just as she was debating how next to attack, three Titans of varying sizes came out of the mist, hands and gaping mouths first. She retracted her line swiftly up to avoid one, and then bounced herself off the gate housing to resume the attack on another. The other Garrison members swung into sight, blades drawn.

Suddenly a huge blast of fire hurtled up from the ground, dispelling all of the fog. Mercedes fired a line at a nearby building to swing out of the way and avoid being singed, and when she landed on the roof tiles she turned and watched as the fire grew and grew until it must have been as tall, if not taller, than the Armored Titan. The other Titans seemed just as surprised as she was. The watch-bells began to ring.

With horror, Mercedes realized that she wasn't staring at an explosion, but rather a Titan covered in flames. It had a slim, wiry frame and little skin to speak of, and seemed unaffected by the fire surrounding it even though some were blue-hot around its joints. Its angular skull was topped with black hair running down the center only; she could not see its face. The heat even at this distance was suffocating and made the air around them whirl and roar.

_This…this shouldn't be possible,_ she thought, recalling all she and Hanji knew about the Titans' physiology and everything they'd speculated. _How can it be on_ fire, _for fuck's sake? How are we supposed to attack that?_

Abruptly the flames appeared to weaken; it leant forward a little. Mercedes blinked and it was as if it had been snuffed out – rather than steam, it disintegrated into ash that filled and choked the air. As she coughed violently she squinted, trying to make out what remained. By the time it settled, there was nothing. Mercedes regained her composure and at Rico's call, went back to the task at hand. They finished off the five Titans that had been harassing the gate, and retracted their lines to bring them back to the top of the Wall.

No one said anything for what felt like an age. The two squads simply grouped together and stood staring at the charred road where the Burning Titan had appeared. Flecks of ash eddied in the air and caught on their clothes, hair and skin. Even the warning bells seemed uncertain now of what they'd witnessed.

"This changes things," Rico said into the quiet. "We're going to Commander Woerman. Now."


	2. Chapter 2: Damage Control

**Chapter 2: Damage Control**

Mercedes and the three members of her squad stood behind Rico's squad in the dank, cramped room that was Woerman's office. The shorter woman had her hands behind her back as she calmly explained what they had seen.

"A Titan that burned like a torch?" Woerman summarized in a deadpan voice.

"Effectively, Sir," Rico agreed. "All present can verify should you doubt my report." In the silence that followed, she continued, "We should send word to Commander Pixis, no doubt?"

"And you have no idea where it went?" the Commander checked.

"No, Sir. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived, leaving nothing but ash."

"So there's a chance that it in fact doesn't exist any longer."

Mercedes could scarcely believe what she'd heard; having little to none for Woerman, her tongue was only held in check by her growing respect for Rico. She shifted feet and could practically feel her squad tensing – they'd been together for a few months now and were rarely without each other, and the resulting symbiosis was a little disconcerting at times. It was something she'd never had the chance to develop with the trainees of the Southern District, or any of the Scouting Legion, since their relationship with her had been unsettled her personality change after she was assaulted. Baena, Oliver and Fhalz had only one, consistent image of her to mold to.

She tuned out of her memories and back to Rico's voice. "…due respect, it could be yet another Titan shifter. The individual could have hidden before we could see him or her – there was a lot of ash."

"Just what we need; another freak, another traitor," Woerman said. Through the bodies in front of her Mercedes could half-see how he leaned forward in his chair, sipping the hot drink that had been prepared for him while they still stood covered in ash with dry mouths. She frowned.

"Your orders, Sir?" Rico prompted after a long moment, and Mercedes could just about pick out the impatience in her voice.

Woerman waved a hand irritably and sat back again – she could just about make out his greasy, ruddy hair and wished she could see his face to glare into. "Fine, yes, send someone to inform Pixis. No doubt the Scouting Legion will want to hear of it too, when they return."

_Three days,_ Mercedes thought, and almost of its own accord an image of Jean rose to mind. She pushed it away like the poorly-timed nonsense it was.

"But there's nothing we can really do at this point. No one to investigate, no information to go on. Just a stench. I'd say let's keep a careful eye out, but it shouldn't be that hard to spot a seventeen-meter walking campfire. We can manage that, eh?"

A slight hesitation, and Mercedes heard Rico say, "Sir," lowly. Her salute cued them all to do the same, and without waiting to be dismissed she strode through the six of them out of the room.

They followed, and Mercedes wordlessly drifted forward into pace with her – for the first week or so of shadowing her, Rico had often irritably beckoned her forward after such events or meetings so that she could do her best to pass on information, protocol, impressions and so on about them. Her initial skepticism and averseness toward training Mercedes – and indeed, Mercedes' own doubt in her – had waned, replaced by the beginnings of camaraderie and the revelation of similar attitudes. Now Mercedes did not hang back until called. Rico waited until they were outside of the Garrison HQ in central Trost before speaking.

"Jonathan, please get word to Commander Pixis immediately," she said to one of her men.

"Yes, Sir." He rushed off to comply.

"Typical Woerman," Rico muttered. "He'd rather stick his head in the sand and wait until the danger shows up again before doing anything about it."

"And in the meantime?" Mercedes said.

They paused by a fountain in the courtyard between the headquarters and a church – Mercedes remembered hanging off its steeple in the Battle for Trost as her squad at the time took down their first Titan as part of the middle guard. Her current squad wandered a small ways away to give them privacy, trusting that she would tell them all they needed to know later. Rico's squad did not go so far, but they did turn their backs and scanned the area. The late afternoon sun was peeking through patches in the cloudcover, periodically warming them.

"If you can manage it, I'd like you to go down to the area in which it appeared," Rico said. "See if it truly didn't leave anything behind other than charred earth." She took her glasses off and began to clean them on the hem of her white button-up. "What with these reports of Titans being active at night, I suppose it doesn't matter if you go in the day or the night." Her striking gray eyes glanced up at Mercedes, "I know it's not one of your strong suits, but you'll have to be quick."

"My squad can cover me, if you'll give them leave to do so. I'll be able to go faster if I'm not also fighting off the hordes," Mercedes replied.

Rico stared at her a moment more. Calculating pros and cons of letting yet more soldiers go over the Wall and into the hot zone, she knew. "If you have confidence in their abilities, then I suppose it's time I start assessing whether I trust that confidence," she said. There was the slightest tug of a smirk on Rico's mouth but Mercedes knew better than to acknowledge it. "So, that aside. Talk to me. What else should we respond with? What else should we do?" Rico prompted. "I'm not your mentor to do all the thinking for you." Her critical stare remained on the younger woman.

Mercedes' eyes lowered to look at their feet momentarily, considering. She did not need long – shadowing Rico had not only given Mercedes confidence in her own powers of deduction, but helped hone the speed of their development and the timing and readiness of their delivery. She looked back up. "We should immediately begin monitoring travel in and out of the other functioning gates, prioritizing west and east, and place additional watches around the Trost gate. That Titan was outside Wall Rose and we should aim to keep it that way to better our chances of identifying them, if it is indeed a shifter, though our immediate observations clearly lean to the affirmative."

"The warning bells rang. What should we do about that?" Rico continued. She slipped her glasses back on one side at a time in a fluid motion.

She didn't hesitate. "Naturally the Garrison will need to know that we have seen another Aberrant of significant size, in order to prepare accordingly. However, any further speculation should be kept under wraps to avoid it leaking to the public and causing unnecessary panic." Mercedes looked away, down the street to where the noises of street sellers rattled off the buildings. "As for the public themselves…if we can, we should popularize that the bell was a false alarm. The gate workers had been evacuated this morning before we came in; the Titan did not reach higher than the Wall. It's possible that the only ones to actually see it were ourselves and other Wall units in the immediate curve. Until we have more information, there's no need to broadcast."

Rico lowered her chin and peered up at Mercedes. "And if it appears again?"

"Hopefully that second appearance, if it happens, will still be outside the Wall. Further study will be all that we can do initially," Mercedes shrugged. "We don't know what it wants, what it can do, or how we can combat it. Sailing into an inferno to try to slice it before my eyes boil out of my head isn't an idea I relish."

"But if it appears inside the Wall?"

Mercedes frowned, returning her gaze to her superior. Slowly, she admitted, "Evacuate, of course. But beyond that, I don't know."

At this Rico finally cracked a smile – Mercedes had rarely seen her do so. "I just wanted to see if you'd ever admit that." Then it was gone. "It's okay to not know. But your strategy thus far is sound. I would have thought of similar solutions."

Mercedes accepted the closest thing to a compliment that she was likely to get from Rico as she did the sporadic smile or smirk – without acknowledging. The last time she'd thanked her, she'd got a snarl of a response about how this wasn't an etiquette class in the Interior and to stop wasting words.

"Obviously Woerman is going to take a back seat today, and leave the damage control to us. I want you to establish the additional watches at the gates and the more stringent immigration checks, with my authority," Rico said. "I'll handle the briefing of the immediate area soldiers who likely saw the Burning Titan. We'll regroup in three hours to develop a Garrison-wide strategy."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Mercedes asked as she saluted.

Rico began to move away with her squad. "Any better ideas, rookie?"

With her back safely turned, Mercedes returned her smile. Then, she faced her own squad, who were wandering back in her direction with curious expressions on their faces.

"So?" Baena asked. The tall blonde, the oldest of them at nineteen, tipped her head forward to continue dusting ash out of her short and haphazard hair. She'd been Mercedes' roommate ever since she'd transferred back from the Scouting Legion six months ago.

"Damage control time. We're going to need stricter controls on who gets in and out of Wall Rose for the foreseeable future. We may have another Titan shifter on our hands," Mercedes replied. "Baena, if you go to Utopia, Oliver to Karanese, and Fhalz, if you go to Klorva, I'll set up some preliminary watches at the cracks around the Trost boulder. We'll need to be back here in three hours."

"Heard something about going back out there," Oliver timidly suggested. For his intimidating size – he reminded Mercedes of Reiner, except with much darker skin and hair – and jaw-dropping accuracy with his gear, he was by far one of the most sensitive people she'd ever met. She tried to be patient and encouraging with him but sometimes it was difficult.

Mercedes offered him a small smile, "Yes. Tomorrow, I figure. I'll need all of you to cover me if you're willing – Squad Leader Brzenska suggested I go back to where that fucker appeared and look around for any clues it may have left behind."

"Like we're just going to let you go out there by yourself," commented her second, Fhalz. He took off his glasses and leaned over to splash water from the fountain onto his face, dampening his auburn hair. Besides herself, he was the only member of the Western Division of the 104th Trainees Squad, to her knowledge, to still be alive. He had ranked sixth, which surprised many due to his short and wiry stature.

The smiles of Baena and Oliver echoed his sentiment, and Mercedes returned it, "Thank you, I'm glad of your support as always. I promise not to take longer than necessary." She sighed. "Okay, let's get to the gates and spread the word. First one back here gets my share of the beer tonight."


	3. Chapter 3: Voices

**Chapter 3: Voices**

Several members of the Garrison met in the Trost headquarters' chart room later that evening at Rico's request. Mercedes was initially uncertain about the outright exclusion of Commander Woerman, and in particular conducting the meeting two floors directly below his office, but that had soon passed. Along with her own squad seated at the back of the room, there was Rico's reformed Elite Squad and another that had been put together not long ago, composed of more senior soldiers. More tellingly, however, was the presence of Gustav, one of Commander Pixis' aides.

"As I'm sure you're aware, we are forming this preliminary preparatory strategy without the initial input of Commander Woerman," Rico, at the head of the room, stated. "If you are concerned about this treading the lines of sedition, you're welcome to leave now. Please know, though, that Commander Pixis has approved our taking precautionary measures, and should Commander Woerman ask we will happily share this information with him. We will simply not volunteer it."

She paused, and scanned the room. No one left. "Good, then."

"I can confirm that Commander Pixis is willing to support your measures," Gustav said beside her, "in light of a new enemy."

"Our priority is to not only identify the Burning Titan and confirm whether it is or is not another Titan shifter like Eren Jaeger and Annie Leonhart, but also gather as much information as we can in the event of another appearance or an attack," Rico continued. She turned her head slightly in Mercedes' direction, but did not look at her. "Tomorrow, with the help of her squad, Carello – the former understudy of Squad Leader Hanji, of the Scouting Legion – will return to the location of the first sighting to gather any physical evidence."

Rather than the assignment causing her anxiety, Mercedes found herself wondering if the rest of Rico's squad – or indeed, the other elite squad – held any resentment toward her for taking a prominent place in the strategy. She only semi-successfully reasoned it away with the fact that both elite squads shouldn't be intimidated by a less experienced one. She was only Rico's shadow, and being put through the ringer – that was all.

"Sir, is it true that this Titan was completely covered in fire?" a member of the other elite squad asked. "How are we supposed to fight that?"

Rico looked fully at Mercedes on the other side of her, then, making her feel more exposed as all eyes turned to her. Mercedes lifted her chin a fraction. "From what we could see, yes, it was completely covered in fire of seemingly varying temperatures and was unaffected by it, suggesting this was a fixed part of its physiology rather than a one-time party trick. Although the flames did appear to weaken prior to it disappearing, we do not know why. It also seems to disintegrate into ash rather than a steaming, dissolving carcass. We won't know how to fight it until we can get more information than that."

"In the meantime," Rico jumped back in, "additional watches and increased gate security will help us restrict and monitor all who are leaving or entering Wall Rose. I'll be expecting daily reports. Otherwise, we'll continue our regular duties and try not to draw attention to what happened. Do all you can to quiet any rumors that you hear."

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><p>"Come on! You're not going to get any breakfast if you're slacking!" Mercedes yelled behind her as the four of them plummeted to the beaten earth and grass outside Trost's gate.<p>

The day was impressively warm and cloudless considering the fog they'd had the previous morning and the fact that it was early spring, and even the short dash down over the wall had her feeling warm under her jacket. They were making a bee-line for the house-sized patch of blackened soil a few meters away where the Burning Titan had vanished. Mercedes mostly concentrated on running and dodging, while her three squad members dealt with the Titans. Aside from defending the gate, this was the first time they'd been alone in the thick of it, even though guards were watching them from the Wall – the maybe twenty-meter distance between their objective and the base of the Wall felt like a mile.

Twenty minutes. Tops. That was what Mercedes had told them. She'd try to get all she could in twenty minutes. Then they'd retreat. To be honest, she wasn't convinced she'd find much and it'd made it difficult to figure out what, if anything, to bring with her. She'd decided to just rely on her eyes.

Mercedes jumped as a smaller Titan lunged, its arm passing under her feet and grating into the ground. She heard Baena singing to herself like she always did as she came down for the kill. Mercedes kept going; Fhalz sped ahead of her briefly to distract a slightly larger Titan that was in her way; she ran under its legs and there, scant feet away, was the charred earth. She dropped to her knees beside it and as best she could, tuned everything else out.

_Equal-sided, practically circular – looks like even heat distribution, _she assessed. She used the hilt of her blade to scrape up some of the dirt._ Still black underneath._ She pocketed some of the dirt and continued scraping for a moment more, only to find more dry black earth. _Significant heat even on an insulator, then._ She got back into a crouch and scurried to the center of the patch, looking for anything that might have been left behind. Her fingertips hovered over it. _Nothing._

Mercedes briefly came back to the real world to check on her team – nearby Oliver held on to the shoulder of an eight-meter class as it fell, deploying a line into a nearby ruin to pluck him away. The other two seemed to be faring well.

_Ten more minutes,_ she estimated, and went back to the search. She looked around her, trying to guess where a potential shifter's human form would go after the disintegration. The nearest cover was a pile of rubble a meter or two away. Mercedes bolted toward it, noting how as she left the blackened dirt the grass underfoot was scorched, singed, browned, wilted, and then healthy again.

_Still hot, but not a huge radius of varying temperatures. It must have been fairly contained around its body, then – at least here on the ground – it felt so hot to me up on the roof._

When she reached the rubble, a small amount of the ash still remained, piled and cornered in the lee of a few rocks; she scooped some of this up too and put it in her other pocket. Her eyes flitted around the area. She didn't want to leave her squad's sight but she was running out of places to look and things to look for. Their in-fight squabbling – or more accurately, Fhalz's squabbling – was muffled in her ears, drowned out by her own heavy breathing.

_If it was a shifter, they'd have to be pretty fast to reach this spot from the epicenter without being seen. Suggests a faster and less disorientating detachment from their Titan body than others we've seen._

Mercedes couldn't see any footprints, disturbed rocks or lichen, scuffed dirt – nothing. She continued to dart around and over the rubble like a crazed beetle.

_There has to be something, come on! This can't be it. You're going to look fucking stupid if you come back with just pockets of dirt and ash and an endnote about grass._

"'Cee! Come on! We don't have long left!" she heard Baena call.

"I know, I know! Just give me a minute!" she retorted more angrily than she'd intended. _Screw this._

Mercedes risked going out of their sight and went farther into the rubble, where it formed what remained of walls although she still wasn't sure what the building had once been. It cast a cool shadow on her from two sides and compared to the dazzling sun, she had to let her eyes adjust for a second. She scanned the ground, she scanned the walls, she even scanned the fucking sky. She did it again. And again.

"Damnit, why isn't anything here?" she growled.

"'Cee? It's really you."

Mercedes quickly realized that not only was the voice too soft and close to be any of her squad, but that it may have been familiar. She looked around but didn't see anyone. "Hello?" she called.

A Titan body crashed into the rubble and she had to jump out of the way of the falling wall. As it continued to tumble, she was forced to leave the building entirely. Steam began to consume the area and though she looked again for who had spoken, Mercedes knew they had outlasted their welcome. Titan activity was growing too heavy for them to deal with it alone.

"Back to the Wall! Go!" she shouted.

As they made their way back she tried to look around for a retreating figure, but wasn't able to see much. She wondered if she'd truly heard anything, or if it had all been in her head. Either way, it certainly wasn't something she could offer up as additional evidence. It was going to be a frustrating conversation to have with Rico that all she could grab was dirt and ash.

She recalled the sound of the voice, and its nagging but irrational familiarity. If she had to, she'd almost call it grateful, like it hadn't seen her in a long time.

_Listen to yourself. How can a voice 'see' you? Focus._

The four scaled the Wall and once at the top, regained their breath. Mercedes slapped Oliver on the back as she passed, and then looked over her shoulder at the scorch mark as if it'd spell out an answer now that they had tickled it.

"Breakfast now, yeah?" Baena checked. She was hopping around as she adjusted her boot.

"You guys go ahead – I need to go report to Rico. I'll meet you."


	4. Chapter 4: Coming Home

**A Note From the Author: MANGA SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 35 ONWARD BEGIN HERE, as does the alternate timeline.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 4: Coming Home<strong>

_(The next morning)_

As Squad Levi filed into the waiting crowd at Trost, the voices rose. They were directed at Levi, which was one of the reasons Jean was able to tune them out. The main reason, though, was that he was replaying Commander Erwin's orders in his head. How so quickly obvious it'd seemed to him to follow Captain Levi back here to conduct the next part of their mission – maybe as little as a year ago, he wouldn't have been so compliant. Now that they were here, though, the riskier it seemed, the facts more tenuous.

"One good thing to come out of this is getting to see Mercedes again, right?"

Jean turned to Armin's voice beside him. "Wh-what makes you say that?" he barely controlled his surprised stammer.

"You keep looking for her on the Wall – you know this section is her patrol," Armin smiled. "And you're scanning the crowd like you did that time when we came back from the 58th."

"Oh." Jean hadn't noticed he had been craning his neck to look behind them at the Wall, but now the ache in its muscles let him know. "Yeah, I suppose it's a good thing."

They hadn't seen each other since they returned from the 58th, which had been a few months after the defeat of the Female Titan – of Annie. Everything had been so rushed back then that there'd barely been a goodbye. The last few weeks had flown by what with everything that'd happened and he wondered how much she really knew of everything they'd experienced with Bertholt, Reiner and Ymir. Did she even know they were returning early?

"Do you think she knows that the Walls she defends are made by what she hates?" Jean asked aloud.

"Probably. If Hanji had suspicions before we left, then she probably shared them with Mercedes," Armin said. "Even if she didn't, Mercedes probably sniffed out that information for herself."

The small convoy continued weaving through the crowd. Rainwater on the streets from the previous night was evaporating in the unusually harsh sun, turning everything muggy and more miserable than it already was and heightening the potency of things Jean really didn't want to smell. Despite Armin calling him out on it, he continued scanning the crowd for Mercedes. It was as though seeing her, talking with her, would make everything feel more solid and clear.

"Well hey there, Squad Levi. I see your observational skills are as distracted as ever, Jean."

Gratefully and with a little embarrassment, Jean looked to his left, where Mercedes was walking her horse, Sabine, alongside theirs. She smiled up at him and life already felt a little better. "Do you even belong to the military anymore?" he jabbed back. "Every time I come home I only ever see you in plainclothes." She was wearing her rust-colored sleeveless top over a pair of brown pants and matching knee-high boots, her hair still sporting her iconic undercut on the right side while the rest hung loose. Little irksome feelings of attraction to her were re-emerging and making his body start to heat up.

"Actually I can't stay long. Julia sent for me," she said.

All pretenses fell and Jean frowned. "Is she all right?"

"I think so, but she said it was urgent, so I guess I won't know until I get there. Anyway, I'm glad you're alive, but – there's so few of you – what happened to the others?" she looked up and down their line, counting. "Please don't tell me…"

_So she doesn't know,_ Jean thought. But it wasn't something they could just talk about in the street. "Hey, look, go to Julia. We'll talk later." It reminded him of what he would be doing in what had become a matter of hours rather than days. He had to see her again before then. "I'll come find you. Will you be on late patrol?"

As her gaze resettled on him he noticed that she looked as anxious as he felt, and wondered why. What had been going on here while they were gone? But after a moment she seemed to understand his meaning. "Yeah, eighteen-hundred hours. Above the Trost gate." She pulled herself into Sabine's saddle. "Bye, then. Good to see you too, Armin. Keep safe."

"Bye, 'Cee, hope everything's okay," Armin called after her as she trotted away through the crowd. "Who's Julia?" he asked.

"Her grandmother. Quite the firecracker."

"You met her?"

"Yeah. Think of her as Mercedes in sixty years' time. "

There was a moment of quiet between them.

"What are you going to tell her?" Armin asked next, more lowly.

"I don't know." 

* * *

><p>Mercedes cantered up to her grandmother's house, Sabine's hooves echoing on the cobbles. The front door, as usual, was open, but what caught her attention was the other horse – white, slightly speckled gray – already there, hitched to the plum tree on the right corner of the house. Perplexed, Mercedes dismounted and as she got closer to tie Sabine's reins there too, she realized the horse seemed familiar. But it didn't make sense. She was reminded of the voice she'd heard in the rubble where the Burning Titan had been – how familiar yet incongruous it was.<p>

"Granna," Mercedes called as she stalked toward the house. There was no response, but murmuring voices grew hushed.

When she stood on the threshold to the kitchen, she was met with the sight of her grandmother and, of all people, Commander Erwin, sitting at the old heavy table with a pot of tea and two mostly-empty bowls of soup between them. His green Scouting Legion cloak was slung over the back of his chair.

"I made soup. Would you like some?" Julia asked.

Mercedes' eyes, however, were glued on her former Commander. He had a measured smile on his face. She rapidly saluted. "Commander Erwin. This is a surprise." She gestured vaguely at her clothes, "If I'd known –"

He held up his left hand and it was then that she noticed he was missing most of his right arm. She averted her eyes. "It's all right, Mercedes. I apologize for worrying you but this was necessary, I'm afraid. I came to ask for your help – and that of your grandmother, too."

Mercedes cautiously entered the room and took a seat opposite the Commander, next to the stove. Julia got up to refill the kettle, rubbing Mercedes' shoulder as she passed behind her. Mercedes scanned the Commander's face to look for any clues, but all she found was the usual resoluteness. The skin around his eyes seemed dark from tiredness and he no longer looked as young as she remembered. She hadn't seen him in more than passing since their last audience, the night he ordered her to make the run to the Wall by herself. Along with the return of the tumultuous emotions she'd experienced back then and on her arrival were dozens of questions. She wanted to blurt out everything that'd happened with the appearance of the Burning Titan, but somehow this felt more urgent and that scared her. Her brain felt too crowded for it all; she sat there smoldering like a coal without knowing what to say.

Julia set a bowl in front of her of creamy-red soup with what looked like unshelled peas sailing in it. There was a clack as the kettle was set back on the stove. "This looks halfway decent, Julia. Been practicing?" Mercedes muttered as she trailed her spoon through it.

"Not really," Julia said. "It started as a stir-fry."

"It's rather good," Erwin added.

Mercedes wondered how long the Commander had been here in order to have had lunch with her grandmother and gone through a pot of tea between them. Julia barely cooked for her much less a stranger, regardless of rank – did she and the Commander know each other already, then? What had they talked about? Why was he including her in all of this?

She rested her spoon and sat upright. "I guess I'll bite. How can I be of help, Commander? Respectfully, I don't see how we can do anything that your own men cannot."

Erwin hesitated for a moment, analyzing her. His tone was calm, even sympathetic, as he said, "You're harboring resentment for me, for how I sent you on that suicidal run all those months ago – for how I tested you. You're right to do so."

"On the contrary, Sir. I did at first, but I don't harbor it now," Mercedes clarified. "I understand your reasoning for it at the time and it's led to some great opportunities."

"I'm glad to hear that, as I was to hear that you'd made it in record time. Your parents would have been proud," Erwin said. He sipped what remained of his tea.

Mercedes felt her entire body sharpen at the mention of them. It seemed deliberate – too deliberate to be a clichéd compliment.

"I wonder, though, if you can see all of my reasoning behind sending you back," he continued. Julia reached between them and grabbed the teapot, and Mercedes heard the rattling sound of her fishing out the stained metal infuser she'd used for what seemed like centuries. Erwin rolled the handle-less cup between his fingers on the table and even the unglazed clay managed to glint in the light from the kitchen window. "It's why I'm here now."

Mercedes chewed on her bottom lip and took a bite of soup. It was horribly bland and a little oily but at least it wasn't burnt like Julia's usual concoctions. "To hazard a guess: it didn't make sense on paper to send me back. I'd humbly suggest that to lose someone of my caliber, or at least potential – particularly after the loss of Captain Levi's original squad – would have been unreasonable unless there was a much more pressing reason to have me located here, instead." She paused.

Erwin's stare, when she glanced up, seemed to intensify – if that was possible. "Go on."

"Combine this with how I seem to have been fast-tracked with the Garrison, even warranting shadowing Squad Leader Brzenska of all people, and being given much more liberty than I feel to be normal for a non-veteran soldier… And you sent me to Commander Pixis. Someone else could have handled my transfer, if that's all it was. My mere survival was enough to be a letter of recommendation, to him, from you?"

Julia replaced the teapot and poured fresh hot water into it. After the kettle was back on the stove, she returned to her seat and poured for all of them. Mercedes stared into the steam as it lazily formed its own vertical landscapes.

"You needed me to be here," Mercedes finished. She looked up at Erwin, who was taking his tea. "A reformed Squad Levi – but no one else – is back much sooner than a typical resupply would be at the end of an expedition. You're sitting at my grandmother's table like you've known each other for years. What's going on?"

She watched Julia breathe deeply in and the pair exchange a glance; Erwin almost seemed surprised at Julia, like he'd expected her to have said something sooner. It only served to worry Mercedes more.


	5. Chapter 5: Conviction

**A Note From the Author: Again, MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 5: Conviction<strong>

"It seems a lot has been kept from you," Erwin said. He crossed his legs the other way. There was another weighty pause and Mercedes wrapped her hands around her cup in anticipation. "The Carellos have a history with the Scouting Legion. While your parents were never part of any military faction, they helped us a great deal by supplying horses – even running them to us while we were out on expeditions – or other needed materials. They also did a lot of exploring of their own, and their notes often informed our own expeditions. No one knows what happened to them."

Mercedes felt her jaw grow slack. She looked at Julia, who was swirling the tea in her cup. She had only faint recollections of her parents – they'd disappeared when she was five – and though Julia hadn't said anything when they moved Mercedes had been intuitive enough to understand that she was never going to see them again. She'd never asked specifically what happened, or what they did – just assumed it was the same as everyone else's sob story. It never even occurred to her that it'd be imperative to know, and Julia had never hinted otherwise.

"Your uncles and grandfather all served in various divisions," Erwin continued, "and all met a noble end. Before you were born our expeditions stopped by your family ranch a couple of times, back before the fall of Wall Maria. No doubt you were wondering how I seem to know your grandmother."

Mercedes' eyes, however, hadn't left her grandmother's face, who seemed stoic in the face of Erwin revealing all this information. "Why didn't you tell me, Granna? Why am I hearing this from the Commander?"

Julia met her gaze, her own eyes unashamed. "I wanted you to be able to choose your life path without the influence of those that had gone before you. You were all I had left." She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head once, "How could you think that I wouldn't try to do the best I could? All but my youngest son – your father – out of the five I had followed their father into the military. Even then, your parents served the military. I lost all of them in that service. Can you blame me for at least trying to give you a chance to go another way?"

"But I didn't, and you sent me with your blessing," Mercedes said through gritted teeth.

Julia reached out and gripped her wrist, leaning forward. "But it was _your_ choice. It wasn't something you felt obliged to do. I raised you to be an independent thinker and it seems to have worked out pretty well, considering you have your fucking ex-Commander sitting here eating my shitty food just to have a chance to talk to you, wouldn't you say? If you find fault with my parenting, please speak up."

Mercedes was quiet as her grandmother's eyes bored into her, her grip on her wrist almost painful. While the two of them squabbled around eighty percent of the time they were together, it was rarely from or to hurt and equally rarely resulted in an apology. This felt different. Even her unsinkable grandmother seemed upset and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Granna," Mercedes said after another moment of charged silence.

Julia held onto her for a moment more, her lips kneading into her mouth, and then she released her and sat back, wiping stray hairs out of her face and picking up her tea. "That's what I thought. Now let's stop wasting the Commander's time."

Erwin cleared his throat; Mercedes had nearly forgotten he was there.

"My apologies to you as well, Commander," she added. "Thank you for your compliments to our family."

Again, he waved his hand at her dismissively and poured himself more tea. "I'm sorry to have opened an old wound. But I brought it up so that you can more fully understand the context of your family history in which you'll be working."

"…in which…I'll be…working?" Mercedes repeated uncertainly.

Erwin lowered his chin and stared at her from under his heavy brow, "What do you know of what happened the last few days outside the Wall, when the Scouting Legion was trying to find the breach that supposedly let the Titans in in the dead of night? What do you know about the Armored and Colossal Titan?"

Mercedes hesitated, a feeling of dread coming over her as she recalled how few members had returned with Levi. Even Eren had been missing. What was she about to hear? Outside somewhere, a dog barked.

"Usually I'm able to gather a little information about the goings-on with the Survey Corps," she admitted quietly, "but lately there's been nothing."

"As it should be. What I'm about to relay is confidential. I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of relaying every detail, but suffice it to say that the shifter identities of the Colossal and Armored Titans was uncovered to be Bertholt Hoover and Reiner Braun, respectively. It was also discovered that Ymir, another trainee from the Southern District of the 104th, is also a shifter. They were defeated, though not without casualties and not without other critical information coming to light, which brings me to why I'm here."

Mercedes tried to set aside her surprise and further questions in order to focus. It was difficult, but she knew the Commander was expecting her to be impartial right now. Her primary, burgeoning curiosity was if the Burning Titan she'd glimpsed was also anyone she knew, but she'd have to confine that discussion for later.

Erwin took another sip of tea. "The Military Police isn't entirely under the control of the Brigade, and neither does the King hold ultimate dominion. There is in fact a significant cult of 'Wallists' – individuals who uphold the Walls themselves as godlike figures – that is pulling many of the strings that hold our society together. There is so much conspiracy surrounding their actions that to consider them as custodians of humanity's wellbeing is to speak an outright lie. They are also seeking to kidnap Historia Reiss." At Mercedes' confused expression, he clarified, "The girl you know as Krista Lenz. She is an heir to the throne – one we, the Survey Corps, intend to install."

"You mean, overthrow the current government," Mercedes paraphrased. Despite his sending her on a suicide mission, she still held a lot of respect for and trust in the Commander – but it was still hard to digest what she had just heard, not to mention what he may ask of her.

"Did Hanji tell you anything about the Walls themselves?"

"No, but I gleaned for myself that they were made by Titans, and that Titans remain inside them," Mercedes said, and Erwin smiled at her in something akin to satisfaction.

Julia, oddly, chuckled, "What the shit…" She got up and collected their dishes.

"You're correct. We're uncertain exactly how or why, but we do know that at the same time, it contributed toward much of humanity's memories being altered – wool being pulled over our eyes for the last century." Erwin slowly stood and wandered a small ways toward the living area. "Add to this that all Titans appear to have once been humans, and their appetite is merely a desire to by chance devour a Titan shifter in order to return to being human."

Julia made a surprised noise. "Well isn't that nice?" she chimed in as the dishes clattered into the sink.

"Julia, please," Mercedes hissed. "Sir, going back to the," she hesitated, not feeling comfortable labeling it as such, "rebellion – how is that going to be done? And why are you telling me all this?"

"Eren and Historia are in hiding for their own safety. Tomorrow, Jean Kirstein and Armin Allert will be disguised as them and ride with the rest of Squad Levi down a prominent street. I have every confidence that they will be captured by a middle man – members of the Reeves Company that are in reality working for us – and thus we can track them to the real power behind the throne: Lord Rod Reiss, Historia's father. I myself will be having talks with Commander Pixis very soon regarding our plan in order to gain his support, or at least his passivity."

Erwin finally turned to face her again, and she tried to remain immobile under his scrutiny. She'd seen this stare before – a few times, in fact. It gave her the distinct impression that he was pausing to reconsider his thoughts, before confirming something to himself about her and then moving on. Having usually been the one to do this on others, Mercedes didn't find it easy to adjust to it being done to her.

"It's been a long-established agreement between myself and Pixis that you be granted the ability to move virtually unrestricted," he continued, "and it has been in preparation for this. If the overthrow of the current government, as you put it, does not go to plan and if Pixis is not able to support us, I am asking you to not only secure the escape of as many Survey Corps soldiers as you can – prioritizing Eren – but to also be prepared to testify with your knowledge of the Titans."

Mercedes tried not to dwell on the true nature of the request – to abandon loyalty for her Garrison in favor of one for the Scouting Legion. She quietly but assuredly answered, "Of course."

Erwin opened his mouth to speak again, but seemed to think better of it. He glanced at Julia, whose back was to them as she washed dishes. Mercedes frowned.

"Julia, we'll be back in a minute. We're just stepping out back for some air," Mercedes said. She got up and moved past the Commander on her way out the back door.

Julia made a noise of assent but didn't look up from her washing.

Erwin followed her onto the shallow back porch and the wood creaked underfoot. The not unpleasant smell of manure hit them, along with the chirping of the spring birds. Ahead of them, down a couple of short steps, was their single acre of land covered in tattered and chewed grass and hoof-stamped mud paths around the perimeter fence, with her grandmother's honey-colored horse, Bashka, grazing and swishing his tail in the sunshine. They stepped off the porch and walked a few ways into the field, pausing near the hay grate.

"There's something else, isn't there, Commander?" Mercedes asked. She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck and brought it over one shoulder.

"Very astute of you," Erwin said.

There was a moment of silence that felt like several minutes. Erwin turned to face her.

"If all else fails," he said so quietly that she struggled to hear him over the peaceful sounds of Klorva, "on behalf of all that's left of humanity, I don't want to but must ask – can you be prepared to kill the King?"

Mercedes' mouth parted and her eyes involuntarily widened a little. Her pace quickened. Erwin's face was solemn and serious.

"What – why me?" was all she could manage.

"I have faith in your ability to escape, should it need to be done."

"This is treason, Sir. Compliance with treason…"

"I never said it wasn't."

"My 'ability to escape'? That's not enough – not enough reason to ask –"

"You survived a solo run through heavily-infested Titan territory, and did it in one day rather than two or more, because you trusted your superiors even when given little grounds to do so. But you're right, it isn't quite enough." Erwin leaned forward and placed his one remaining hand on her shoulder. The brilliant blue of his eyes was illuminated in the afternoon sun. "You're not shaking in the face of this request. Your first instinct wasn't to say no, but to ask for the reasoning behind it. That is why."

Mercedes tried to imagine what it would be like to kill the King, or even how it'd be feasible, but her mind didn't want to let the idea in yet. Everything that he'd told her was clouding it too much – it felt impossible to answer. She averted her gaze.

"I believe you have the fortitude, as well as the skill," Erwin added as he removed his hand and stood back upright. "With your unrestricted movement, you'd be able to get closer without question than if you were a member of the Survey Corps. Yet I also believe that for you, the Walls you protect are no different from the Titans you fight; the people you protect are no different from the Titans you fight and likewise, the Titans are human, now. Knowing that, and given that you have not taken the opportunity to abandon everyone, means that you are still searching for clarity, and for something to believe in. This is that way. Deep down, you know that too. What may appear to be a crisis of confidence is in fact the motivation, the conviction, that sets you apart."

Mercedes looked at him again. He was managing to smile. Every muscle in her body wanted to demand how he could ask this of her – to put her career and her life on the line for someone else's revolution. But was it someone else's, exactly? Those helping bring it to fruition were friends, comrades, people she respected and worked alongside. But those she would betray by agreeing were also friends and comrades. And what if the revolution failed even if the King was dead? What would happen to her then?

Seeming to sense her conflict, Erwin said, "I won't demand an answer. You trusted me, so I shall trust in you."

She was surprised, but also relieved. She needed to turn this over in her head very carefully. "Thank you for trusting me," she said.

"No matter what you decide, I'm sure it won't be misplaced."

* * *

><p><strong>A(nother) Note from the Author: <strong>Sorry for the rather 'talky' chapter! It was needed in order to set up some later plot points. Thanks for persevering!


	6. Chapter 6: Her Squad

**Chapter 6: Her Squad**

_Everything Julia kept from me about my parents…a Burning Titan…overthrowing the government…killing the King,_ Mercedes thought as she rode back to the Garrison's Trost headquarters. _This is far too much shit for just three days._

After Mercedes had told Erwin about the Burning Titan, he had told her to keep an eye out for it but not to worry about expending the effort to report to him. There had been no speculation as to its identity, but he had noted that no doubt she and Hanji would be working together again should it reappear. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, or whether it'd be possible if they were all in the middle of a revolution. She might not even be around, or alive.

As she passed into a more crowded thoroughfare, she felt like everyone around her could see her conversation with Erwin written all over her face and clothes. Already she wanted to proclaim her innocence to them without having done anything. But what was innocence, exactly? She'd talked about it. She hadn't stopped Erwin from suggesting it or alerted an authority. Was listening complicity, and therein guilt? Was considering it any less terrible than if she'd already put a bullet in the King's head? But even if she threw the whole idea out or went so far as to reveal Erwin, what would she be guilty of then? Which guilt would be worse? Which would be better to live with forever?

_How can he simply trust me? I have no idea what to do._ She slowed to let a couple of merchant carts pass. _But I better figure it out quick – if tomorrow goes as planned, then things may happen too fast for to do otherwise. And I better not draw the Garrison into this more than Erwin already has._

* * *

><p>Back at the compound, Mercedes found the rest of her squad had been tasked with loading additional gunpowder and cannonballs into the elevator to be taken up to the top of the Wall. She diverted her course to join them at the ramp that led down into the supply basement, where they were dragging crates up and into a single cart. Their jackets were slung over anything handy.<p>

"Whoa, who did you guys piss off to be stuck with this after lunch?" Mercedes said as she dismounted. The cart bed bowed as Oliver heaved a crate of cannonballs down from his shoulder and the noise made the horse skitter slightly and whinny. Mercedes calmed it as she tied up Sabine beside it.

"_Somebody's_ loud mouth decided to broadcast a rumor," Baena declared as she came trudging up the ramp, pushing a barrel of gunpowder in front of her. She cast an angry glance behind her and Mercedes followed it to see Fhalz doing the same, except that he seemed to be trying to move it by only touching the iron hoops with the heels of his hands.

"Fhalz what're you doing?" Mercedes chuckled.

"He doesn't want to get splinters," Oliver mentioned as he passed by on his way back into the basement.

"Okay…" Mercedes laughed again. She tugged on the hem of her tank top and climbed up onto the back of the cart to start repositioning the load more appropriately. "So, what rumor are we talking about?"

"Our favorite little wannabe-scholar parasite told Richie Cotton," Baena grunted as she heaved the barrel upward for Mercedes to grab, "that I have herpes."

Mercedes spluttered with laughter despite herself and nearly lost her grip on the barrel. "Why the hell do you care what Richie Cotton thinks and why did it result in you doing trainee grunt work?" she managed. The barrel was stood upright and shoved toward the back middle of the cart.

"You didn't have to start a riot about it," Fhalz retorted as he began to try to lift his own barrel but had far less success than Baena.

Baena planted a boot on his thigh and shoved, toppling his unbalanced weight. The barrel rolled away back down the ramp and Oliver had to neatly sidestep out of the way. "I think I had every right to!" she shouted down at him. "Because it was an outright lie! Who goes round telling people that someone has herpes?"

"You don't need to be swooning over him anyway," Fhalz said. "He's a jackass."

"You're a jackass. What are you, my dad?"

"It was while we were eating," Oliver volunteered to Mercedes as he set down another crate of cannonballs. "Things got out of hand and Commander Woerman ended up being hit with a sandwich."

Though the image amused her, she tried to stifle another laugh. She bared her teeth as she dragged the crate backward. "You guys need to start acting more professional. How are we supposed to become an Elite Squad – the youngest ever Elite Squad – if you look like kids?" Mercedes turned her back to them momentarily and as she did so, she thought, _Though your chances may be ruined forever if I have to do what I've been asked to do. It'll taint you by association. _She frowned.

"Anyway," Baena said. "Was your grandma okay, 'Cee? You're back sooner than I thought you'd be."

Mercedes feigned a stretch to give her a moment to come up with an excuse – although she originally thought she'd confide in her team, when it came down to it she wasn't so sure. There wasn't anyone that could be trusted with it.

"She's fine, turns out," Mercedes said. "Practical joke." Not unheard of, for Julia.

"Your grandma's awesome. We should visit her again," said Fhalz as he rolled his barrel back, still avoiding splinters. "None of my family is that cool."

"If we ever get any time off again after what you pulled," Baena said. She turned on her heel with a hop and hummed to herself as she descended into the basement for another barrel – Mercedes had never known her to stay mad for longer than a day.

Oliver took Fhalz's barrel like it was little more than a toy ball and handed it up to Mercedes. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep things from getting out of hand," he said.

"Don't worry about it, Ol'. Not your fault," she replied. "Cause and effect. Almost done, anyhow." She rolled the barrel on its edge backward and into place.

The first few pings of rain began to hit their faces. Baena shortly rushed out with a waxed canvas tarp as the drops grew heavier and more frequent, and the four of them helped spread and secure it over the supplies. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Hey, do you think that Burning Titan could operate in a thunderstorm?" Fhalz grinned.

"Knowing our luck, probably," Mercedes said as she tucked the corner of the tarp under a barrel. "But here's to hope."

"Did you hear that part of the Scouting Legion is back? I wonder if they were told about it."

"I'm sure they were. The Burning Titan is likely to be our problem, though, rather than theirs. Too much on their hands out there. I only saw a few of them this morning rather than the whole convoy," Mercedes said.

"Did you see…uh…" Mercedes looked up to find Baena biting her lip to hide a grin. "Did you see your friend?"

Mercedes chose not to acknowledge the grin and said simply, "Yes, I saw Jean. Glad he's back safe." She walked over to Sabine and untied her. "Come on, help me hitch Sabine up to the cart, too. This is too much of a load for one horse."

"So, gonna see him again, huh?" Baena continued. The other two, passing by, smiled at each other and Baena joined them.

Mercedes' eyes narrowed ever so slightly. While she'd been relatively open with them about her friendship with Jean she hadn't done the same with the other thoughts she tried to clamp down on. Most of the time she avoided their teasing and had yet to give them anything that confirmed their imaginations. "Yeah, probably," she said noncommittally, but thought of how few hours stood between now and the beginning of her patrol. "Like I'll be catching up with Hanji-san, and Armin, and the others, if they have time. I really don't know why you give Kirstein special attention. Thought you liked Squad Leader Cotton, Baena?"

"I think Fhalz does too, from the sound of things."

"Hey!"


	7. Chapter 7: Walking on the Edge

**Chapter 7: Walking on the Edge**

The rain grew heavier and heavier until it came down in sheets, and continued well into the evening. While the previous patrol was happy to be relieved and dash out of it, Mercedes didn't mind the rain so much. Granted, it was much colder when you were wet on top of the Wall rather than at the bottom, but there wasn't any way to get out of it. She'd offered to take her patrol – a four-hour slot from six in the evening that involved a walk over Trost's gate and around twenty meters either side – alone, primarily to relieve Baena of having to get cold (as she inevitably did the past few times this had happened) but also so that she could talk to Jean privately.

_If he still comes, that is. He may not want to get out in this shit,_ Mercedes thought as she turned away from checking in with the four gate guards. She turned up her collar as she headed back out into the torrents of rain.

In this weather, the sky and the landscape blurred with the Wall, and smudged the pinpricks of light down below in Trost. A less observant person unfamiliar with the top of the Wall could easily walk off the edge if they didn't follow the rail track that enabled cannon and supply cart movement. The rain lashed her face but the wind wasn't too bad. Mercedes tried to pick out any signs of Titans, or the dark spot where the Burning Titan had stood, but it was all a mottling of gray and brown.

She recalled Rico's response to her report after they'd got back from the brief reconnaissance mission: _"So quite literally, nothing but charred dirt and ash?"_

_"Nothing else," Mercedes had told her._

She had neglected to mention the voice she'd heard in an effort to put it out of her mind but, as she'd seen, it kept creeping back. With the revelation that so far, all four of the known Titan shifters had come from the 104th Trainee Squad, and the Southern Division at that, Mercedes had little hope for the Burning Titan. That said, like the Western Division she didn't know what percentage of that graduating class was still alive. She and Fhalz had done a little bit of census research and they'd been able to estimate that including the two of them, those that survived from the 104th Western Division could be counted on one hand. It didn't _seem_ that the other divisions had fared much better, though the Western was undoubtedly the worst-hit.

_Our generation of the military has essentially almost been wiped out, _she reflected. _We have been the one to give them Titan shifters and bring on a new era of terror – will we be the ones to contribute the most? If I were to help Erwin, and if I had to kill the King, what world will that truly be that follows? I don't think it will be as enlightening as peaceful as he thinks. If an entire generation were to be wiped out, how could that not leave a scar of its own? And now there's a Titan covered in fire – what comes next? Overthrowing a government may mean very little, in the end. Changing the drapes in a house that's burning down._

Mercedes pushed her dripping hair out of her face. She'd only been out here for fifteen minutes and she doubted there was an inch on her that was dry. Likewise, she wasn't looking forward to the maintenance she'd have to do on her gear when she got back tonight to make sure it was totally dry.

"Tough luck, being out here in this!"

Mercedes smiled slightly to herself as she recognized Jean's voice. She didn't look at him as she replied, "It's not that bad. It's like taking a long shower."

"I wouldn't know." She felt him come to stand beside her.

"I'm surprised you still came," she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the rush of water on stone.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see you before tomorrow. Is Julia okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine." Mercedes replayed his words, and they made her turn to him. He was wincing into the weather, the collar of the coat over his uniform jacket also turned up – she noticed it was the one Julia had pressed on him; a navy blue wool that hit the top of his thighs. "I heard about what's supposed to happen tomorrow," she said. "Erwin met me at Julia's."

A heavy pause followed as she recalled everything she'd been told and no doubt he recalled the same thing, having known it already. They blinked the water out of their eyes as they stared at each other.

"Come on, I have to keep walking. Walk and talk," she said, continuing her route east.

"Commander Erwin met you at Julia's?" he repeated. They moved closer together to hear each other over the rain. "Why?"

"Brought me up to speed, and he wanted mine and Julia's help – but we'll get back to that in a minute. He told me about the plan, that you and Armin will be kidnapped tomorrow if all goes well. To protect Eren and Kris– Historia," there was more worry in her voice than she'd intended to display. It wasn't that she doubted his abilities, or the Commander's plan, so what was it exactly?

"You sound worried about me," he said. "Don't be."

Mercedes peered out into the night. The rain was easing up a little, but it was still dark and gloomy out there and the wind was picking up. Still impossible to see anything – landscape or foe.

"I much prefer concrete plans, is all," she said.

Jean stopped. "If Erwin told you the plan, then under the circumstances I think it's pretty concrete. Unless you weren't talking about the kidnap tomorrow."

Mercedes turned to face him, her hands in her pockets. The wind plucked up the sheets of rain around them, making them dance and dive in fascinating ways like a murmuration of starlings. It was wonderful, the way the nuances of pressure, water and air hit her body, like she was manifesting something much larger and braver than herself and filling the whole of Wall Rose all the way to Mitras with it. And yet…and yet she couldn't see Jean's face very well, even a few steps away, and strangely it made her feel as if she were losing him more here, now, than she ever had when he'd ridden out of the gate beneath them.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She thought of everything Erwin had told and asked of her. She thought of the Burning Titan's brief and mind-boggling appearance and the voice in the ruins. She thought of the ride from the Scouting Legion to the Garrison at Utopia and how many times she'd almost met death. She thought of that time almost a year ago when Jean had saved her and carried her on foot down the road in the Forest of Giant Trees, the way he'd said he liked her better as a human being, and how he'd let her go when she left. She thought of the night she was attacked and the gold being poured on her shoulder, how they'd demanded to know about Titan shifters even when, back then, she had no idea. She thought of the day her grandmother had handed her Sabine's reins and sent her off for training, wearing the family bangle – once touted as a prize or claim to old glory now feeling like a deceitful shackle binding her to the expectations of the dead. She thought of putting a bullet in the King's head, and having to run again.

Finally, Mercedes spoke, her voice bland, "A new Aberrant Titan appeared – completely covered in flames. And Erwin asked if I would being willing and able to kill the King, if all else fails. And you...you're being used as bait. I've got a lot on my plate."

Jean's face was one of shock. He squinted at her as rainwater dripped off his eyebrows and nose; it darkened the ashen-blond, now longer, top of his hair until it was nearly the color of the shorter hair underneath, plastering it to his forehead. He wiped it all back from his face irritably as he seemed to regain his senses. "Those don't seem to be in the right order," he said. He looked around them for anyone nearby.

"What order would you have me put them in?" she shrugged.

"I should be the least of your worries from the sounds of things."

Truth be told, she hadn't been listing them in an order. They were all on an equal playing field, to her. But to admit she was worried that yet again, this may be the last time they saw each other…it hadn't been intentional. She wasn't supposed to have any special regard for him, any special feelings. She'd left all that behind in the kitchen at the chalet the night she was injured. And if it was back – if – then that was something to be locked down and buried. Especially now.

"Are you serious? He really asked you to assassinate the King? How could he even think you'd be able to get close enough? That'd be…that'd be throwing your life away." Even in the dark Mercedes could tell Jean was frowning at her. "What did you tell him?"

"He didn't ask for answer; he said he trusted me," Mercedes answered.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't think I'll know until I'm aiming." She turned and carried on walking the rest of the eastern leg of the patrol and she heard him catch up with her, lingering behind her by a step as always.

The rain was lighter, now, and the wind continued to dance around them. She took the opportunity to ring out her braid a little. She scanned the lost territory below, still unable to make out the shapes of either Titans – active or otherwise – or ruined buildings.

"I don't want you to do it. It's not worth it," Jean said.

His words caused her pulse to quicken, and she appreciated the sentiment even though it made things complicated. "Who are you to judge if it's worth it? After all, the Commander asked me, not you," she forced herself to say. In reality she wanted to heed his words and find out why he said them.

"That's not necessarily a compliment, 'Cee. I respect the Commander as much as you do but didn't it occur to you that he might have asked you because he views you as more expendable?"

Mercedes reached the patrol marker – the third cannon from the gate – and turned on her heel, sidestepping Jean neatly without looking at him and beginning to walk back. She didn't answer him. Of course she'd considered that possibility. What did it matter, either way? It couldn't be denied that she had been ideally-placed to do the job and likely stood the best chance of escaping, however slim that was.

Jean kept step with her. After another moment of non-response, she heard him sigh. "A Titan that was on fire? When was this?"

"Few days ago. It's classified, but Erwin knows," she replied readily. "It was only for five minutes, tops – outside the Trost gate. Didn't do anything before it seemed to weaken and disintegrate. My squad and I went back out there the following morning but I couldn't find anything useful."

"Totally on fire? Like a fucking pyre?"

"Yes, Jean, like a fucking pyre. And well done you for rhyming – poetry a new hobby out there, prancing around in the fields and forests?"

"Shut up."

Mercedes paused, and wiped more rainwater off her face. "Erwin told me about Reiner and Bertholdt. And Ymir. I'm sorry."

"Makes you wonder about this new Titan though, huh? Probably another shifter. I just hope it's no one we know – I've had enough betrayal of that kind to last me a lifetime."

They walked in comfortable silence for what felt like another hour, passing over the gate and reaching the western patrol marker – another third cannon – before turning around. The rain stopped, leaving a steady, melodic drip and trickle from every surface and the distant murmurs of thunder. The wind was sweeping the clouds away, but it was taking a while for any sky to be seen. Without the white noise of the rain Mercedes was able to see the faint outlines of the ruins outside Trost's gate, and the vague monoliths of stilled Titans. Having heard of their new night activity, it made her wonder why they seemed to be reverting to old habits.

However, her mind was preoccupied with Jean. She was glad he was here, but not for the troublesome emotions his presence provoked in her chest. Their relationship had grown from being a thorn in the other's side to a reluctant friendship, and ever since he'd come back from the 58th and ran to meet her that reluctance had been subsiding, too. They could smile at each other now. But he still seemed to be holding back from her and she could barely imagine why, unless it was for the same reasons she held back from him.

_Emotion would distract us. Friendship is bad enough, but attraction…there's no place for that. You're just asking for your heart to be broken – it's just a matter of when. Is that what he's trying to hide from me? Because,_ she admitted to herself, _I think that's what I'm trying to keep from him._

As they passed over the gate housing, Mercedes helped herself to a couple of dry towels that the gate guards were passing out for themselves. There were murmured fragments of conversation and as one of them re-lit the torches, she identified their faces as those she'd personally chosen to provide additional watchmanship in light of the Burning Titan's appearance. Given that it could be seen as suspicious that she was walking around with a member of the Scouting Legion, she was grateful that this group could be relied on not to talk.

Mercedes held out one of the towels to Jean as they descended back onto the eastern side of the Wall. "Here," she said with a smile.

"Dry off your gear first," he held up a hand. "Then I'll gladly take it. Fucking rain."

Mercedes dried off what she could of her gear in lieu of a full dismantle. "Listen, you don't have to stay up here with me if you don't want to," she said. "You should probably be getting some rest before tomorrow's craziness."

Jean paused. "I'd rather be up here with you." He cleared his throat when she didn't reply immediately. "Probably not gonna sleep anyway," he added quickly.


	8. Chapter 8: Against All Odds

**Chapter 8: Against All Odds**

Jean accepted the slightly damp second towel and used drying his head with it to hide his face. _Great move, idiot,_ he thought.

He heard her sigh and come to a stop. Cautiously, he peered out of the towel. She was frowning to herself. "Jean," she began, and as usual her use of his first name made his throat constrict with anticipation. Her voice was helpless. "You know you can't…we can't…"

His brain scrambled to determine what she was referring to. _Could it be? Surely not? She used 'we', so it must be… No. Don't fool yourself. You shouldn't have said anything. You shouldn't have said anything – this was all a bad idea._ But oh how tempting it was to get confirmation! He looked her in the eye as she turned around.

Her eyebrows rose to create an unusually pitiful expression. It briefly descended into annoyance. "How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with you with that on your head like a half-drowned puppy? Stop it." She reached out and yanked the towel off his head and threw it at his chest, and then sighed.

"Sorry," he said. After a pause, temptation got the better of him and he tried again gently, "But what…what do you mean?"

Mercedes looked briefly nervous, and then hid it with a low, "You know damn well what I mean." She continued walking, rubbing the other towel into her scalp, and he trailed after her.

"Are we going to spend the rest of the night talking _around_ the subject?" he called.

"Not at all, because you should go," she said. "I'm not even sure why you came."

Jean jogged to catch up with her and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She wouldn't look at him and that familiar habit of hers told him that maybe, just maybe, he should keep trying. But as he opened his mouth to speak, another voice shouted at them.

"Hey! 'Cee!"

Jean let go and they both looked farther down the east portion of Wall. Two figures, one very much taller than the other, were approaching from the risen elevator, the taller one waving.

"Baena," Mercedes said quietly. "Must be Fhalz with her, too."

"It stopped raining, so, thought we'd come relieve you!"

The taller of the figures was a slim, happy-looking blonde, while her more disgruntled-looking shorter companion reminded Jean of Armin in terms of build, with the top portion of his dark red hair tied back and a pair of combat goggles above his forehead. He couldn't make out their eyecolor in the light, but he could see their Garrison uniform and presumed they were squadmates of Mercedes. Both were armed with their gear.

"I don't really see the need for that…" Mercedes began.

Baena waved a hand. "Oh it's fine, really it is! Isn't it, Fhalz? We thought you might enjoy the treat – catch up with your friend and so on. Hello!" she waved at Jean. "I'm Baena Cullis. This is Fhalz Lathan – we're Mercedes' squadmates. Heard a lot about you!"

Jean mumbled a hello, feeling the prior mood – strained as it was – disintegrate into awkwardness.

"Baena, I don't need relieving –" Mercedes said through gritted teeth.

"Come on, enjoy yourself! We've got this!" She passed by Mercedes and slapped her on the back. "Go get dry. Have fun!"

Jean saw Fhalz and Mercedes exchange an annoyed look before he too said, "It's fine, 'Cee, really. But it was her idea. Go have a night off for once." He followed Baena, who had started humming to herself.

As their wet footsteps echoed away, he heard Mercedes sigh yet again. "Let's go, then," she said.

The long ride down was made in anxious quiet. Jean wondered whether they would go back to her barracks, since he couldn't exactly take her back to the Scouting Legion's current hideout and her grandmother's was rather far away. Would she even want to spend more time with him? Was that even a good idea? The knowledge that tomorrow and all it held was less than a few hours away weighed heavily on him, whispering into his ear that maybe he should just let go, give in, tell her. But there was the doubt, and the fear of growing too attached – it had practically ruined him while she was making the run to the Wall – and even now there was the lingering thought that she somehow belonged to Marco, and that to make any moves on her would betray his memory.

Jean had tried to reason with the latter idea. Marco…as much as he wished otherwise…was dead. To think that even if he were alive that he'd have any claim to Mercedes, like she was territory, was also ridiculous. But there it was. He was still having trouble, missing Marco, and it was hard to tell whether that was what hindering his feelings toward Mercedes, or if it was the other way around. If he were to fall in love with her, would Marco then be truly gone?

The door to the elevator rattled as Mercedes slid it aside, jerking him from his thoughts. She stepped out and didn't look to see if he followed. He almost didn't. But that stupid, relentless need to follow her pulled at him, like there was an invisible cord that bond him to her. His shoes ground the grit underfoot as he stepped out after her.

"We can dry off at the barracks. Unless…unless you have a curfew?" she asked, still not turning around.

Honestly, he was probably riding on borrowed time ever since he'd gone up to the Wall, but Jean felt too close to the heart of their matter to back away now. "I can be out a little longer," he said. He had to try. He had to get clarity otherwise his chest felt like it was going to implode. And Mercedes wasn't good at having these kinds of conversations, as he'd seen in the past – he'd have to pry open her shell, like always, and hope.

They reached the Trost Garrison HQ and barracks, and Mercedes took them inside via the supply basement, which he thought was a little odd. He'd thought it was dark outside but it was practically pitch black down there, and he had to rely on sticking very close to her and acutely listening in order to not bump into anything. He stumbled on the stairs up and she opened a single door; they broke the surface into a short, lamplit hall.

Another single door immediately on the right opened into a long, narrow pantry, and he resisted laughing. The next door revealed the kitchen; some part of him strangely expected it to be half-devoted to an infirmary, as theirs had back in the chalet, and for he and Mercedes to return to that draft of a conversation and try again.

Mercedes closed the door behind them and they wandered in the direction of the fireplace in the corner, whose wide hearth still had a good-size batch of flames inside from cooking the evening meal. That fireplace was the only light. There were a few quiet voices from the mess hall next door, but the kitchen itself was empty and Jean was grateful for it. Kitchens had always been comforting to him, even as a boy, and it seemed as though most significant interactions with Mercedes were fated to happen in them. It gave him hope.

"That's better," Mercedes said to no one in particular as she began to take off her gear. Jean thought about offering to help her but settled on removing his coat instead. Julia had given it to him that day he'd met her, and though it was a little big on him – made for a taller, broader man – and showed signs of wear it was well-made and she wouldn't take it back. He remembered how Mercedes' eyes had been drawn to it on their walk back that day, though he hadn't asked why. Seemed as good a conversation re-starter as any.

"You know, Julia didn't tell me whose coat this was. It's nice. I'm grateful for it." He laid it carefully on the hearth so it could dry.

Mercedes was placing her gear on one of the prep tables. "My grandfather Esteban – it was his." She took off her uniform jacket next and slung it over a chair. There were darker streaks on the burnt orange of her tank top from where the rain had managed to seep through.

Jean was shocked. "Really? Then…god, why did she give it to me? I shouldn't have taken it."

She looked over her shoulder at him with that familiar smirk he liked. "Guess she thought your scrawny ass would have trouble keeping warm."

"That's pretty much exactly what she told me," Jean laughed.

Mercedes rounded up a few dish towels as well as the two larger ones they'd brought with them, and brought out a multitool from her pocket – Jean had rarely seen one and presumed it must have also been a Julia-gift. She began to dismantle her gear. "Not like it was going to fit either of us. No use in it languishing away in a closet. She probably would have turned it into a horse blanket given enough time."

He wasn't entirely convinced by her reasoning, but let it lie. His boots came off next and he sat in the welcome warmth of the fire for another minute, trying not to watch her. Yet the conversation needed to continue.

"I came to see you today because of Marco," Jean said.

There was a couple of moments' hesitation before she seemed to relent and at least temporarily let him have his way. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly, indifferently. Deliberate, he assumed.

The sentence had made more sense in his head. He elaborated, "Do you remember me telling you, the night of the Disbanding Ceremony, that Marco had feelings for you?"

"Jean, please –" She rubbed furiously at her gear with the dishtowel.

"Just answer me."

"I don't see what his feelings have to do with you."

"It has everything to do with it." Jean sighed and brought his calves up to sit cross-legged, his back to the fire. His shadow reached out to touch her. "I take it you remember, then." She was quiet. "I'm sure he wanted to tell you. One of the last conversations we'd had was about how he wanted to take you to the market one day, see if you'd let him kiss you. Talked about the possibility of you two getting married one day, even."

The memory of his best friend's smiling, wistful face caused a painful wrenching sensation in his gut. It was tempting to stop talking about it, stay faithful to Marco's 'claim' on her by that conversation alone and not taint it with his own feelings, but it'd already been broached, now. There was nothing to do but continue and hope that there was some atonement in doing so. Jean looked up at Mercedes; her dismantling and drying had calmed considerably and she ran over the same spot again and again in a slow, tight circle.

"He died before he got a chance to say anything to you," he said. "I just…I didn't want the same to happen to me."

Her hands dropped completely; he slowly stood in anticipation – of what, he wasn't sure. He desperately wanted her to turn around but was also afraid that she might. When she spoke her voice was low and charged. "You're not going to die tomorrow. You're not."

"Maybe not tomorrow," he admitted carefully, "but if the revolution comes to pass, or hell, if that Burning Titan comes back, then maybe it'll be a few days from now. Next week. A month. A year. Whatever it is, I don't think I can go another hour without telling you." Now that he was finding what to say it was impossible to stop. "At first I tried to ignore it – I tried to pretend, for the sake of Marco's memory – I didn't want to betray him."

"Don't, don't," he vaguely heard her saying over and over, shaking her head.

"It's too difficult now – I get that even friendship is a risk nowadays but I can't help it. Every day that's gone by I've felt like I've been losing pieces of myself and I don't know how to get them back. It's destroying me." He paused and watched her shaking on the spot, her hands gripping the table. He had no idea what she was thinking. "If the worst comes to pass, I don't want to step into hell without having told you that against all odds, and despite both our best efforts, I've fallen in love with you."

Even the crackle of the fire seemed miles away. Jean felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from him and the vice that'd gripped his body had broken, like a terrible fever had passed. But Mercedes' silence was deafening. He wasn't sure what to do.

"'Cee?" Jean whispered. He cautiously stepped forward and raised a frightened – well and truly – hand to first touch, then hold, then gently grip her shoulder. Her non-resistance, as usual, was his only encouragement. Her shaking attempted to travel up his arm and he stepped closer, trying to better anchor them. His other hand took her other shoulder and still she didn't speak.

Then, one of her hands released its grip on the table, rose across her body, and held onto his. She sniffed and he realized she was crying.

Not knowing what else to say, he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm the only one that can do that," she whispered.

She leaned into him ever so slightly and her other hand rose and held onto his, too. He figured there was some reason she wasn't turning around, or responding in kind, so his head dipped as best it could with their height difference and rested against hers, his chin on her shoulder. The cold wet rope of her braid gradually grew warm against his collarbone and throat.

"We can't, we can't…" she said.

"Why?"

Mercedes paused and took in a slow breath so deep that it moved him too and felt as though he was breathing with her. "My family has lost so much. I feel like any day now I'll lose Granna, too. Everything I get attached to, everything I love, I risk losing. I can't lose you. You…you said you can't survive _without _telling me how you feel – I don't think_ I _can survive if I _do_ tell."

After a moment's hesitation he whispered in her ear, "Do you trust me?"

And after an equal amount of hesitation she said, "Yes."

"Then let me brave for both of us, when it comes to this."

It felt like he held her for a long time after that, just rocking a little, taking in each other's warmth and that of the fire at their backs. Jean daren't interrupt her thinking. He felt like he'd volunteered as much as he could – the rest was up to her.

Finally her hands released his and she turned around. Her dewy, dark eyes turned fierce and it breathed life into him. Her voice, however, carried the quaver of a storm. "If you are going to step into hell – tomorrow or any other day – then make sure you come back to me."

He couldn't stand it any longer – Jean kissed her hard and was elated to find that her arms seized him, her fingertips digging into his back and neck. Her mouth readily opened for his and he felt like he was diving into the kiss. When she forced them to break away his hands held her face, stroking away her tears with his thumbs, the same way he'd done when he discovered her cutting off her hair, the same way he'd done on the road in the forest after saving her, the same way he'd done that night she left the chalet on the suicidal run. He pressed his mouth to her forehead and they stood there breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around her back and waist, keeping her near.

"Now, you need to go," she said. Her hands were on his chest, preparing to push him away.

"'Cee?" He had to know. He had to hear it. He had to be sure.

"What now you bastard?" she laughed a little with a few more anxious tears. Her hands bundled, gripping his shirt.

"'I'll go if you let me go.'" he quoted her. She pounded a fist on his chest. "And I'll come back, I promise. Just tell me one thing – tell me the truth."

Again, another hesitation. Then, she stood on her toes and whispered it in his ear. "Against all odds, despite our best efforts." He smiled and felt her do the same. "I love you."


	9. Chapter 9: Rico

**Chapter 9: Rico**

After Jean had gone – it'd been difficult for them to let go of each other, now that the orbit they'd had around one another for so long seemed to have decreased infinitesimally until their centers of gravity were one – Mercedes continued cleaning and drying her gear. Mostly because it needed to be done, but also because it gave her time to decompress and reflect on what she'd just done.

_Holy fuck, you told him. You kissed him – well, he kissed you, but you kissed back. You win the medal for giving in to bad ideas,_ she thought. But it felt good. Really good. Enough to make her smile a little even now.

_"Let me brave for both of us,"_ he'd said. It was hard to do. Delegating combat roles or tasks was one thing and she'd gradually come to grips with that, but this was different. Let someone be brave for her? Unlikely.

"I'll just have to figure it out," she whispered to herself. "If that arrogant, self-interested, stupid, presumptuous bastard can be brave with this stuff, so can I."

It was also strange to feel both reluctant and happy to concede that as much as she grumbled otherwise, those qualities didn't belong to Jean – not anymore. While he'd been away he'd become intuitive, altruistic, focused. It wasn't hard to see, now, why he was on Squad Levi, though Mercedes had suspected deep down since the very beginning that if he calmed down, he'd become the leader she'd once goaded him for trying to be.

And now…now who knows what tomorrow might bring. All that maturing and growing and confessing they'd both done could easily come to nothing. Would the next time they were together be in the stocks, awaiting execution for collaborating in a rebellion? Or would it be in the flames of a funeral pyre, or a Titan's mouth?

"Interesting place to do maintenance."

Mercedes looked up at Rico's voice. She saluted. "Squad Leader Brzenska," she acknowledged. "It was quiet; needed a place to think," she replied.

Rico left the doorway to the mess hall and wandered farther into the kitchen with a stack of three plates and bowls in her hand, and with her other, waved at Mercedes to be at ease. She laid the dishes in the sink and then folded her arms as she came up to the table, propping herself against it. She was dressed in her usual uniform – it was her and another member of her team that usually took over for Mercedes and Baena for the midnight shift, and no doubt she was preparing to go up top.

Mercedes continued her work, but noted that her mentor's face was somewhat sad among its usual severity. The firelight glinted off her glasses, reminding Mercedes that either she should stoke it some more or hurry up and finish before letting it smolder for the night.

"I spoke to Commander Pixis," Rico said quietly.

Mercedes waited for elaboration. She finished with her gas cylinder and began to refit it to its housing, remembering Marco's help with it at the Battle for Trost.

"About your…enhanced movements," she said, and then added in a whisper, "and your potential visit to Mitras."

Mercedes' pulse quickened, and for the sake of any eavesdroppers didn't slow down with reconstructing her gear. She wondered, though, what Rico's perspective would be. The slightly older woman had been with the Garrison for a long time and if it was to be weakened in such a way by Mercedes' covert operations, she couldn't imagine it being received well. She was surprised Rico had been informed at all for that very reason.

"I have to know – you can tell me – is this something you're a part of willingly?" Rico asked. She kept her gaze trained on the hanging rack of gleaming pans and pots in the middle of the room.

Mercedes saw no point in lying. "Yes, but I haven't agreed to anything more than to help the Scouts escape or to testify if needs be," she said equally quietly.

"I see."

A log crumbled in the fire with a soft tumble of embers and ash.

"I cannot protect you if you proceed with Erwin's plan. You know this, right?" Rico turned her head ever so slightly and looked at her out of the corner of her eye. The light turned the gray of her irises into gold. Her face was unusually sympathetic. At Mercedes' nod she shifted feet and looked down at the floor. "Unfortunately I've grown to like you. It's not my place to say if this is a wise move for you to make – I suppose at the end of the day we all have our own destinies to fulfil even if the backdrop we do so on is one of war and the potential for the extinction of our species."

Mercedes began slotting her unused spare blades back into their sheath boxes. "I'm not doing this to go against the Garrison too," she felt compelled to point out. "And I'm not doing it for Erwin or the Scouting Legion, either. I'm doing it for our species." She thought back to Erwin's words concerning her conviction to finding clarity for herself. "And if it so happens that my own destiny, as you call it, is fulfilled in the meantime, then that's a happy coincidence."

Rico walked away from the bench toward the remains of the fire. Her arms uncrossed and her hands came to rest behind her back. "Part of me wonders, nowadays, whether humanity's already doomed. Whether that's true or not, make your decision for _you_. Then you'll never be wrong."

As she carefully wound up her oiled lines back into their spools, Mercedes turned and watched her mentor. She debated what to say. She'd never had this kind of conversation with Rico before and it revealed how little she knew about her. It almost made her sad to have her involved – to whatever extent that might be.

"You'll continue your duties as normal," Rico continued, her voice firmer and more clinical. "I trust that you have the wherewithal to determine when you'd need to make your moves and not otherwise draw suspicion. I'll keep you with me as much as I can so that you'll be able to stay informed, but there's probably going to be a lot that you'll have to find out on your own and I can't be accomplice to that." Her voice lowered, "Rebellion or not, our focus needs to be on the Burning Titan. It has the potential to destroy everything and do it before we even get our feet off the ground."

Mercedes was unaccustomed to hearing this level of pessimism from Rico. Cynicism, sure. Realism, absolutely. But there was always an underlying shred of determination and confidence that couldn't be shaken – it seemed to have vanished.

"Do you really think that'll be the case? After all, you thought Eren wouldn't be any help to humanity and he moved the boulder," Mercedes ventured. She waited for the snipe of a response.

But none came. Instead, Rico looked over her shoulder at her and her face was – albeit briefly – one of despair. For a split second, Mercedes was looking at Rico, not Squad Leader Brzenska. She looked over Mercedes with pity and Mercedes wondered why. "Eren – the Rogue Titan – wasn't covered in fire," she said, and turned back to the fire. "Come here," she added.

Mercedes closed even the very short distance between them and stood beside Rico in front of the fire, her back to it so she could see the rest of the room, however unlikely it was that anyone would come in. She kept her expression neutral even though she dreaded what she'd hear.

"Listen to me carefully," Rico began, her voice barely above the level of the fire's hiss. "Your movements have been endorsed by the highest authority – Zackly. I learned that much. I don't think it's too far of a guess, from what you've told me of your military history, that his knowledge of if not involvement with it extends further back than this coup."

Mercedes was rooted to the spot in shock. Commander-in-Chief Zackly? Why?

"I think you're smart enough to know that half the time, interests of that nature aren't a compliment," Rico continued. "But I also think I know you well enough to deduce that it's not a criminal past or anything like that that's causing it. I don't know if _you_ know why you're getting special treatment –"

"I really don't," Mercedes whispered back, shaking her head a little.

"– but believe me when I tell you that you need to be very careful. These authority figures that seem so intent on using you – Zackly, Erwin, even Pixis – are the type that can set aside any humanity they have in the interests of the grander picture. As easily as they can grant you freedom, they can snuff you out. You are a wildcard to them. They've clearly seen something useful in you but remember that it's just that – a usefulness. As soon as they feel you aren't any longer…"

"Then I'll be thrown to the wolves," Mercedes finished for her. Her mouth remained parted. Of course it'd occurred to her that she couldn't count on her good fortune being long-lived. Jean's suggestion that Erwin was using her because she was more expendable rang dully in her ear.

There were a few moments of contemplative quiet. Mercedes hadn't heard anything she didn't ultimately suspect – aside from the Commander-in-Chief's knowledge let alone interest in her – but to hear it from Rico brought it home in a way even Jean's speculations hadn't. It also made her immensely appreciate the other woman and realize that Rico was more invested in her well-being than she'd previously thought.

Rico propped a knee on the hearth and crossed her arms again. Her volume went back to a normal level but its tone was still dispirited, "I grew up in Trost – I don't know if I told you that. When I was young it was never my intention to join the military, but I did it to please my family. We'd never been high-achievers, never stood out, never accomplished much; my parents saw me as a way to change that."

Mercedes' brow furrowed. It was hard to imagine Rico as being anything but the Elite Squad Leader.

"It was tough to start with, but they kept pushing me. I was noticed, I did well, and special attention was my reward. Ultimately the pattern continued until I ended up on the Elite Squad. My reward for that was to lose that Squad." There was a quaver in her voice, though yet again briefly. She then heaved a great breath and said, "I'm telling you this because…well, be careful what you invest, and where and why, because you never know what you'll lose as a result. Not all noble efforts are rewarded accordingly."

"I understand," was all Mercedes could think to say.

Rico removed her knee and then walked away. She called back, "Get some rest. Who knows when you'll get the chance again."

"Rico," Mercedes said. The other woman paused. "We'll figure something out. I'm sure of it."

Rico resumed walking. "I hope you're right, rookie." 

* * *

><p><strong>A Note from the Author:<strong> Shout-out to ohtobealady, ev661, and the lovely Guest for your reviews! They mean a lot. Hope everyone's enjoying!


	10. Chapter 10: Bonds That Break

**Chapter 10: Bonds That Break**

Later that night – or was it early morning? she couldn't tell at this point – Mercedes lay awake in bed in the room she shared with Baena and two other young women. Baena apparently had known them from her time as a trainee in the Northern Division, and while they all got along well enough sometimes Mercedes hungered to sleep alone, or rather, have a room of her own.

_How long until morning? How long until Jean gets put in the line of fire?_ she thought, turning over on her side. _Don't be ridiculous. He can handle it. He's been living outside Wall Rose for the past few months for crying out loud, and Captain Levi knows what he's doing._

Nonetheless she was plagued with thoughts of anything and everything going wrong – a discovered disguise, an unanticipated variable, more men than they'd expected…who knew. As much as she'd tried to put these thoughts out of her brain, it was agonizing to think that the first time they'd embraced like that, or the first time their lips had met, would also be the last.

_You've never been like this over a guy. Julia would tease you no end if she knew._ Truth be told, she barely knew what to do with herself. Most of her 'prowess' – though it was far from that – was based on Julia's unsolicited, reluctantly-and-secretly-accepted advice and, lately, Baena's scheming.

But she did know two things – one, that what she'd said was real, and true; and two, that she had to deny it to everyone and to herself in the interests of what she had to do.

Mercedes heaved a sigh and turned onto her stomach. She felt hot and constricted and realized that it was because she'd managed to cocoon herself in her sheets. Irritably she spasmed and writhed and pulled to rid herself of them and throw them to the floor – in the process she smacked the wall beside her bunk and Baena, above her, stirred. Her snoring momentarily stopped and Mercedes froze, not wanting to discuss why she was still awake. Then, the oddly melodic but still nasal sounds grew again until they settled into a quiet rhythm like the peeping of a frog. Mercedes relaxed and her head fell back on her pillow.

She reached up a hand to wipe her hair back from her clammy forehead. Her imagination, dark and yet hopeful as it was, began to fog her vision and lull her back into that strange fever of anxiety and yearning. She barely noticed her hand drift down to graze its fingers over her bottom lip. Then she pushed away the memory of his kiss and her arm flopped down by her side.

_Jean. Don't forget your promise. I won't forget mine._

* * *

><p>Wednesdays before lunch were devoted to training or, as her squad had come to call them, 'armpit cobweb sweeps'. Although Baena had woken bright and early – a cheery morning type to rival the sun – to find her sitting against the wall on her bed red-eyed and disheveled, Mercedes welcomed the mindless physical activity. Despite her exhaustion, it served to take her mind off the fact that at that very moment Jean, disguised preposterously as Eren, was being seized from his horse.<p>

The four of them were in a line doing push-ups on the red earth of the Garrison HQ's small training yard behind the stables. There were a couple of other soldiers working out, but otherwise Mercedes' squad had the space to themselves. She and Oliver were fairly convinced that it was either Fhalz's complaining or Baena's scattershot moments of singing that had driven everyone off. Oliver's low whisper of his personal count was a steady metronome that they all tried to keep to.

"I've been thinking," Baena announced, rising gracefully into her fifty-eighth.

"Careful, now," Fhalz commented as he grunted upward into his fiftieth.

"Maybe we should have a squad name!" she continued. "Y'know, since we're not technically elite but still pretty fucking awesome."

Mercedes came down from her eighty-first and rose again into the eighty-second. "I don't understand," she descended again, "how you two can talk so much," she rose, "while working out. No wonder you've only done fifty or sixty in fifteen minutes." Beside her, she heard Oliver pump into ninety-eight.

"So what do you think?" Baena carried on as if her friend hadn't spoken. "I think it'll be great for morale. It'll be fun! How about the Jackals?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Fhalz whined as he collapsed onto his stomach.

Normally up for shouting at him to continue, Mercedes let it slide and hopped into a crouch. Oliver rounded out one hundred and stood. He dusted the dirt off his hands with two loud slaps of his big hands. "Or the Knights!"

"Too prissy," Fhalz said.

Baena rounded out sixty and slowly stood, stretching her back. "What do you suggest Mr Know-it-All?"

"Obviously it should relate back to the Garrison. A rose is a nice motif but you want to strike a bit of fear and awe so maybe something to do with thorns is the way to go. But it also needs to show off and combine our unique skills –"

Beside her, Mercedes heard the toe of Baena's boot tap the ground with a chuff. "Ugh, why do you always have to turn the fun things into homework assignments…"

As the bickering continued Mercedes tuned it out. Anyone who didn't know them well would be hard-pressed to believe that they could work together seamlessly like four limbs of one body, and would happily lay down their life for one another without hesitation.

Still in her crouch, she twisted the bangle on her wrist. The precious and semi-precious stones making up the jaguar's coat and one remaining eye twinkled, while the gold they were set into shone as if it were liquid. Her stomach was churning as it seemed to remember what she had to be nervous about even before it began to creep back into her brain. Would they still work so seamlessly without her? They were so good at protecting the Walls and each other…could she protect them from herself and the repercussions of what she'd been asked to do?

"Hey Boss."

Mercedes dragged herself back from the doorstep of her personal hell and looked up at Oliver. His gentle face was smiling hesitantly down at her.

"How about it? Would you be all right with the Jaguars?"

She glanced at Baena and Fhalz, who were looking back at her curiously. Baena was shaking her hand furiously and Fhalz was rubbing his chin. She had to repeat Oliver's suggestion in her head to remind herself that the conversation existed. It was only then that she was able to process it and when she did, maybe it was all the rest of the emotional shit in her system but she felt her face contort into the start of a sob before she choked it down. She wanted to embrace them all, confess everything, but also send them away from her forever. Her head dropped and nodded; she composed herself. When she looked back up she had a measured smile on her face.

"If you're all okay with it, why not. Knock yourself out," she said. "Speaking of," she forced herself to her feet. "Come on, shadowboxing for fifteen. You know the drill. I'm letting us slack enough as it is."

"Yay! The Jaguars! Go us!" Baena exclaimed. Birds on the roof of the stables took off and their shadows darted over the grounds. 

* * *

><p>A few more rounds of exercises and a couple of hours later, the squad took another water break, sitting together in the middle of the yard gulping from flasks. Mercedes didn't like the downtime – it meant less distraction – but had to follow their pattern as closely as she could. Otherwise there'd be questions. Questions she didn't know how to answer.<p>

She was raising her flask for another sip and nudging the twenty-five pound dumbbell with her foot when she noticed a familiar figure coming out of the shadow of the stables wearing maneuvering gear. A woman of average height with her messy chestnut hair tied up, a glint of glasses. She seemed to spot the group and waved. Baena waved back even though Mercedes knew she had no real idea who this was. She got up and, taking her flask with her, walked swiftly over to the edge of the yard. She glanced around for onlookers.

"Hanji-san," Mercedes acknowledged as she came into the shadow of the stable eaves. "Is this safe? Shouldn't we go somewhere more private?" she hissed. Although worried for their sake and in the interests of keeping Commander Erwin's plan as quiet as possible, she was also searching the other woman's face for any sign that she came bearing bad news.

"Nah, this should be safe enough!" Hanji said. She surprised Mercedes with a brief embrace. She held onto her sweaty, bare arms and looked her over, "It's good to see you. Though must say you look more haunted than usual."

Mercedes averted her eyes and didn't comment on it. "Do you have news?" was the only way she could think to ask.

The twitching of the corner of Hanji's mouth and the twinkle in her eye told Mercedes that she'd caught on. "I'm told the kidnap is going as planned and…" she looked up and waved a finger around as if reading a clock in the sky, even though the sun couldn't be seen from their position, "right about now the rest of the squad should be busting them free."

Mercedes sighed in relief. Then it struck her that Hanji wouldn't be all the way out here – and take the risk to see her – just to tell her that.

Seeming to sense this too, Hanji said, "That's not precisely why I'm here, though. A question and an answer. The question's mine, the answer's for you."

Mercedes frowned. She had little patience for riddles right now. "The question?"

Hanji's expression, too, darkened. "I was hoping you could tell me anything you knew about the torture and death of one Pastor Nick. In particular, the stationing of Djel Sanes, of the First Interior Squad of the Military Police in Trost."

Mercedes blinked. She didn't understand why Hanji had come to her about this or what it had to do with anything, but she tried to be patient. Her thoughts were cast back into the last month or so, trying to recall if she'd heard or seen either of the two names anywhere. Now that she had some inkling that Jean was safe, it was easier to concentrate.

"I remember seeing the name Djel Sanes on a report that my supervisor was given." She figured Hanji knew who her supervisor was, but still didn't want to name names if she didn't have to. "My supervisor didn't seem pleased to give up room and board to him and his team. Said it didn't make sense."

"What didn't make sense?" Hanji prompted, and Mercedes was reminded of Erwin or Rico leading her on, drawing out her theories like string up her throat.

"Why they would be here. It's not like we need backup."

"Did you ever see him? Speak to him?"

"No. I'm sorry. But…my supervisor's impression of him was negative."

"How so?"

Mercedes tried to recall Rico's exact words. "'A zealot', 'somehow always present when a liberty has been snuffed out', 'a stain'."

Hanji fell quiet and her face grew thoughtful. Mercedes could hear her squad conversing loudly and she wondered if it was deliberate.

"I've only heard about Pastor Nick in passing," Mercedes added.

"A Wallist. His fervor regarding the sanctity of the Walls was merely a rouse to keep workers from knowing about the Titans inside them. He could have told us much more about how the Titan-shifters are linked to the Interior and the royal family. So much could have made sense. But instead he as tortured to death."

Mercedes thought back to her own torture, and like a nervous tick her hand rose to rub at the many-pointed scar on the breadth of her shoulder. She used to wonder if those that'd beat her, molested and nearly raped her, were part of a conspiracy related to the Interior like the Wallists but now, it became clear that the Wallists would have had no reason to ask her about the Titan-shifter's identities or whereabouts, or accuse her of being one. The clarity she thought she'd receive was gone.

"Well, I'm grateful for what you were able to tell me," Hanji said, bringing her back from her dark thoughts.

"You think Djel Sanes is behind Pastor Nick's death," Mercedes surmised quietly.

"It's a possibility that will soon be investigated, yes."

Suddenly there was a huge burst of laughter from Mercedes' squadmates. She spun around and saw them doubling over and beating the ground in hysteria, and it caused Hanji to chuckle. She couldn't help but smile.

"Seems you've got a good squad."

Mercedes felt her smile deepen and warm her. "Yeah. We just decided today to call ourselves the Jaguars," she reflected. "I'm very lucky."

Hanji made a long sigh, and it filled Mercedes with a sense of foreboding. Her smile died. She remembered that there was still something left to be said. She didn't want to turn around and her hesitation to do so must have stood out to Hanji, for the slightly older woman put her chin on Mercedes' shoulder.

"Erwin has been arrested under suspicion of murder," she whispered.

Mercedes tried to keep her composure and ignore the smile in Hanji's voice – a smile that she knew was painted on for the benefit of whomever might be watching. "What? Of who? When?"

"Dimo Reeves, a contact of ours that helped with the original kidnapping. Historia and Eren – the real Historia and Eren – have been captured. Earlier this morning."

"Then the kidnap didn't go well!" Mercedes' head reeled. She turned back around. "You lied to me! Jean –"

"I need you to focus, Mercedes," Hanji said sternly. "I didn't lie to you. The first kidnap did go as planned. We didn't anticipate this." Her face took on a slight hint of nerves, pinching her eyebrows a little and straining her mouth. "I am acting Commander in Erwin's stead according to his instructions. We have to be ready. We can't crumble now. I need you." She placed her hand on her former comrade's shoulder and squeezed gently, insistently.

Mercedes felt her blood run cold. Her voice was a crack in the earth, an ache, "You mean the shot."

Hanji frowned and nodded almost imperceptibly. "If it's what you choose."

Mercedes looked away; she looked for Jean and the futility of it stabbed her, like her ribs had been broken again.

"He'll be tried tomorrow morning. They'll be in the throne room."

* * *

><p><strong>A Note from the Author:<strong> Yes, I did take a couple of liberties with some of the timings of the events in the manga. Please bear with me and don't send a plague on my firstborn. :)


	11. Chapter 11: A Monster's Soul

**A Note from the Author: **Obviously, first and foremost, there are manga spoilers ahead. I also have a disclaimer - the vast majority of this chapter is paraphrasing the events in Chapter 58, 'Gunfire'. I make no claim to this section of plot as my own - I merely came in and interpreted it from Jean's point of view and added or embellished a few details - the rights rest solely with Hajime Isayama. Same goes for the chapter title, which is taken from the proceeding Chapter 59; it just so happened to fit perfectly.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 11: A Monster's Soul<strong>

"They'll likely hold the trial as quickly as possible," said Armin. "Maybe even by tomorrow morning. I don't think they want the Survey Corps to be around any longer than necessary, now they know we're on to them." To continue their undercover walk he drew ahead again with the cart, leaving Jean, Mikasa, Connie and Sasha behind on horseback along with the spares.

_With Erwin now in custody,_ _that means tomorrow 'Cee will have to take aim, and make her decision,_ Jean reflected. _And Hange's already gone to tell her. _His head bowed to keep his troubled expression from the others; the hat he'd donned to help disguise him while they were in Stohess helped. He initially hadn't been sure whether to tell them anything about what Mercedes had been asked to do and thankfully their own mission was too engrossing to warrant worrying them further. Plus, the fewer people that knew, the fewer that could be tortured for information about her involvement if everything fell apart.

According to plan, horses were exchanged and their formerly split squad had regrouped. A few steps ahead trundled the casket wagon which they were convinced held Eren and Historia, but now the sound of its wheels over the pristine cobbles contended with the sound of distant gunfire. The group looked behind them in worry in the direction of the gate. Where were Captain Levi and the others?

"The gunfire is getting closer," Sasha warned. "I don't understand. They can't fire guns and chase us using their gear at the same time, right?" her voice became reedy and as she turned her head to the side, her heavy breathing disturbed the hood she'd pulled over her head. Jean, however, knew better than to mistake her adrenaline kicking in for fear.

He glanced over at Mikasa, whose eyes were trained desperately on the wagon that was quickly disappearing out of sight. If they lingered they may lose it. "Keep calm," Jean said, though he wasn't so sure himself. "The Military Police shouldn't be able to keep up with the Captain, or anyone using their gear. The gunfire suggests they're on foot. We should stay focused on the wagon." He rapidly began to consider if they should split up again, if only briefly.

Suddenly they spotted Captain Levi, in only his long-sleeved white shirt, casting lines and soaring through the Stohess gate. He was followed by others using gear except…except they appeared to be wielding guns. Nifa was nowhere to be seen.

Jean squinted through his stupor. _Shit._ They were indeed firing both lines and bullets.

"How is that possible?" he heard Connie exclaim.

The casket wagon was momentarily forgotten as within moments, Levi and his four pursuers were passing overhead. Another few seconds and even through the hail of bullets, Levi had swung in for the kill. One pursuer was cut cleanly in half; his blood pattered on the roof eaves nearby. Somewhere, children had begun to shout in surprise.

Levi passed overhead again and seemed to spot them. He made a gesture Jean couldn't quite make out.

"It's a signal!" Connie said.

"Let's go to the left," Mikasa elaborated.

They caught up with Armin and their cart; the hooded blond was glancing behind him anxiously and as if on cue, Levi landed in the cart bed with a loud thud of footsteps. The cart horses skittered a little but Armin soon reined them in. The group picked up speed and civilians cried out and threw themselves out of the way. Levi didn't stow his blades and a gash on his head was bleeding – they both glistened in the sun. The group rode closer to hear his words.

"…stop following the casket wagon," he was ordering Armin. "We'll have to leave Historia and Eren for now. Our movements have been seen through." He looked at the others. "Nifa and the others that accompanied me were killed – we've been lured out in the hopes they can kill all that remains of the Survey Corps here and now. It's a trap." He swiped blood from his brow irritably and changed position, glancing around for the other three Military Police that had vanished – for now.

Jean's first thought went to Mercedes. If they'd been led into a trap, then by default so would she. If they'd seen through Squad Levi's plan, then surely it wouldn't take them long to trace her? If they all died here, she wouldn't be any the wiser. She'd have no idea what was lying in wait for her tomorrow morning. She'd be gunned down in the streets…

"Jean –"

Jean was brought back to attention by Levi's voice.

"– return fire from here."

"Understood," he agreed and tried to keep his frantic brain where it belonged. He didn't waste any time in bringing his horse alongside the cart, swinging a leg over, and dismounting. He wasn't as accomplished a rider as Sasha or Mercedes and so the cart would provide an easier shot. His horse along with the others were guided by Sasha and Connie, and the herd dropped back. Likewise, he watched as Mikasa and Levi took to the air to cover their escape.

As they rounded a bend in the road, several more figures with gear that Jean could only assume were Military Police sprung into view on the right. They sailed over the rooftops and joined a second wave of others that had risen directly behind – as they descended Levi and Mikasa rose to meet them. Jean readied his rifle and took up position near to Armin. More bullets fired; more people sliced to ribbons.

Jean watched the body fall away from Levi's expert strike. "Is this what we have to do, now?" he asked himself through gritted teeth. "Human killing human? This isn't how it's supposed to be." He sighted along his rifle. _Is this what Mercedes had thought and felt this whole time? Is this what she'd seen?_ Suddenly he understood her urge to run. _Does she still think of them all as the true evil even today and if so, is that why she's going to do as Commander Erwin requested?_ Jean felt his hands shaking and not from the ride. It had dawned on him. _He must have suspected this could happen – that this ugliness would rear its head and we'd succumb to it. That's why he chose Mercedes – she'd feel compelled to end it. But if she comes here…whether she succeeds or fails, she's going to be killed. I've got to stop this – stop her. But how?_

The dozen figures drew closer and closer to their small convoy and practically surrounded them. Bullets ricocheted off the street and pummeled into wood. The rattle of the cart wheels was deafening. Jean returned a couple of shots and was startled by the sound of Armin crying out in horror. He turned, saw the female soldier bearing down on his friend with a gun, and then Mikasa fell on her with a heavy swoop and felled her with a kick to the neck before sailing away. The soldier collapsed into the bed of the cart behind Armin.

Jean had his rifle trained on her in an instant. "Don't move!" he shouted as he noticed her twitch.

The young woman looked up and over her shoulder at him, blood streaming from her nose. She had dark, bright eyes that reminded him of Mercedes'. She looked familiar. His finger applied more pressure to the trigger but he couldn't bring himself to pull it, even though he knew he should.

_Am I the monster 'Cee thinks we all are?_

"Jean?" Armin prompted incredulously.

Though Jean repeated his earlier command, the soldier pushed herself into a crouch and with a violent, abrupt swing, knocked his rifle from his hand. The cart took another sharp turn and unbalanced him – he fell against the back of the cart and stared up the barrel of her gun into the soldier's face.

She hesitated. Her expression was one of reluctance.

_Is this woman a monster, either?_

Then he saw the minute tense and rise of her hand as she prepared to fire –

Her skull was exploded by a bullet and as she fell out of the cart, her gun merely tipped the hat from Jean's head. In horrified gratitude he looked at Armin, who was still holding out the pistol. He seemed momentarily appalled at what he'd done, but that soon changed into anger and determination. He turned back to the road. "We're close to escaping!" he yelled.

* * *

><p>Later that night, outside the run-down shack of a building in the small forest in which they'd hidden, Jean took over Mikasa's watch. The low voices of the others died away as he pulled the door closed behind him. Above him, just visible through the trees, was the bright coin of a rising gibbous moon on the crumpled navy cloth of a sky. An owl had begun to hoot and distantly, there was the trickle of a brook.<p>

Jean reflected on Captain Levi's earlier words, and what had happened during the escape. He'd allowed himself to be distracted and it had nearly cost him his life – not to mention that Armin now had blood on his hands as a result. They all did, granted – who knows how many Military Police soldiers, who were just following orders, had been killed? – but Jean had always hoped that out of all of them, Armin would be spared from becoming a criminal.

The door creaked open again. "Jean? You all right?"

Jean glanced over his shoulder at Armin. "Yeah," he gave a half-hearted smile. "Better now. You?"

"I guess." He came outside and shut the door, wandered over to join Jean in the small clearing between the building and the forest. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Before I do, I want you to know it's not an accusation – I don't blame you for anything – I –"

"Just ask, Armin," Jean laughed to himself.

Armin began slowly, "It's not like you to be distracted like that. What happened?"

After a pause, Jean said, "A couple of things." He debated how much to tell Armin about his worries for Mercedes. "I recognized that soldier. The one you…saved me from."

The pair turned and began to walk one leg of the perimeter. The moonlight cast shadows of the trees onto their bodies and the path in front of them.

"You did?" Armin asked sadly.

"Yeah. It took me a while, but I finally remembered where I'd seen her before. It was at our Disbanding Ceremony – she was with 'Cee as part of the Western Division."

"Really?"

"If she was Military Police, that'd make her the Tenth that Mercedes had referred to back then, since their Sixth is her squadmate Fhalz. None of their other ranking classmen survived Trost." Jean's head bowed. "And now it's just the two of them."

There was a long pause, in which they turned the corner to patrol the back of the building. Some small creature scampered out of the way, rustling leaves underfoot as it did so.

"Do we know what her name was?" Armin asked.

Jean frowned. "No. Maybe Mercedes remembers." He glanced up at the moon. "She probably remembers."

Armin let fall another weighty pause. "Recognizing that soldier wasn't all of it, though," he said. "You've been half-here for the past couple of days, ever since you got back from visiting 'Cee. You haven't slept much since then, either."

The temptation to tell his friend was strong; gruesomely, the thought that held Jean back from confessing it all was that he wasn't so sure if the slighter young man would hold up under torture, and not confess it himself. He didn't want to put more on Armin's shoulders than he already had today. How was he supposed to share with him the burden of knowing tomorrow morning, Mercedes might kill the King or at the very least, testify or become accomplice in the revolution by securing the escape of fugitives? How was he supposed to explain to Armin that something in his gut was telling him that she was being set up by Commander Erwin, of all people - that he was likely preying on, counting on, the fallout from the trauma she still hadn't completely overcome? And that furthermore, even if they did succeed with their plan and the revolution occurred, that there was yet another Titan – a Burning Titan – to deal with somehow that the Commander hadn't seen fit to tell them about?

"Jean?" Armin prompted. "You're hiding something."

They turned the corner and paused in the shadow of the building. Jean could smell the tiny white flowers on a nearby overgrown bush with glossy leaves and wished instead that it was the smell of plums caught in Mercedes' hair. Armin was looking at him sternly. He had to tell him something. Luckily, Armin was the only one he felt comfortable talking to about Mercedes so if he had to admit what he was about to admit, better that it be to him.

"I did go to see her, yeah," he began. His heart beat rapidly against his ribs as he remembered their conversation, their kiss. "Against all odds, despite our best efforts, turns out I love her," he shrugged, averting his eyes in and feeling his face flush with embarrassment, "and she loves me." It was still hard to believe that last part but it nonetheless managed to set off a firework in his chest every time he remembered her saying it, even in dark times like this. "The rest I can't tell you right now. Please believe me when I say it's for the best."

"That's great news!" Armin managed to smile broadly and shook his shoulder a little. "I'm happy for you!"

Jean smiled back, but grimly. "And because of that, we need to get this revolution over and done with as soon as possible – before she gets in too deep."


	12. Chapter 12: Into Mitras

**Chapter 12: Into Mitras**

Mercedes had knocked herself to sleep with alcohol the previous evening, though it wasn't exactly permitted. It'd been just enough to get her six hours with no dreams. When she'd woken, earlier than everyone else, the sun was barely turning the sky lavender. Above her, Baena continued to snore. Their patrol the night before had been a strain following Baena's attempts to quiz her about Hanji, about Jean, about what was wrong, about what she was going to do with her day off and why – when she'd let slip she had to take a trip to Wall Sina – Baena couldn't come with her even though Ehrmich was her hometown. Mercedes had snapped at her a few times until it had worn down even her cheer; now she felt guilty. After all, for all she knew this could be the last time she saw her.

Mercedes dragged herself out of bed and with a bizarre sort of reverence, made her bed and took what she would need for her shower into her arms. _May as well be clean,_ she mused. She remembered her grandmother often teasing her as a little girl for wanting a bath first thing in the morning only to go outside half an hour later and get covered from head to foot in dirt.

The shared showers were located in an annex not far from the main dorms; two rows of five stalls in a cramped, badly-tiled room whose walls didn't offer much insulation from the cold in the winter. The water pressure, however, was decent and the temperature adequate – the plumbing in general was good for Trost. Mercedes was glad that hardly anyone else would be down there at this hour and when she entered, this pattern was confirmed.

Mercedes sighed a little to herself and picked a stall on the opposite row, far into the corner so she could pretend she had some privacy. She slung her towel and clean clothes over the stall door and closed it behind her.

_If this turns out to be my last scrub, shame it's not a bath,_ Mercedes thought. She hankered for the deep soaking tub at her grandmother's, with its window overlooking the field and the peace it held for her. Nonetheless she went through the motions, trying not to think about her dark errand for the day. It was surreal doing something as everyday as taking a shower and washing her hair when in an hour, maybe less, she'd be heading for the capital and by this afternoon, potentially fleeing for her life. Her stomach churned. _Focus. You have to focus,_ she told herself. _You can do this. Stop being so morbid._

As she washed the soap out of her hair, she heard someone else come into the room. With the height of the stalls, she couldn't see who it was. The paranoia that'd lately risen in her made her tense and hurry to get the soap out of her eyes. She moved closer to the wall and faced the stall door.

_Oh for crying out loud,_ Mercedes thought when the individual entered the stall right beside hers. _You have nine other stalls to choose from! What the fuck!_

Clean clothes she didn't recognize were slung along with a towel over the other stall door and she heard the individual begin to disrobe. A white button-up along with uniform trousers were also slung over the door. Shortly, the shower was turned on. Mercedes craned her neck and judging by the calves and feet, pinpointed that her neighbor was another woman, likely petite.

_Rico,_ Mercedes realized.

"That you, rookie?" Rico asked. Her voice was very near the stall divider and Mercedes moved closer in kind.

"Yes," Mercedes replied. She turned her shower off and grabbed her towel.

"Figured as much." There was a pause. "You have a couple of hours," she said lowly. "I've been advised that you should head for the library, and look like a scholar. No gear."

Though this made her brow furrow, Mercedes said, "Understood."

"There's also a letter I was asked to pass on to you. It's in my pocket."

Mercedes felt her skin prickle and tried to rub it away as she dried herself. She dressed, though in light of this new information she realized she'd have to change again once she got back to her room. Her towel was slung around her shoulders to catch the drips from her hair.

Mercedes unlocked her stall and scooped up the T-shirt and shorts that constituted her pajamas. At the noise Rico said, "Good luck." She heard her finally move under the water of her own shower.

"Thank you."

As she left Mercedes quickly dipped a hand into each of Rico's trouser pockets and procured a small, single-sheet trifold that had been folded again into a square. She immediately shoved it into her own pocket without looking at it and left the showers. Along the way she passed her and Baena's other two roommates and gave them a casual good morning as if nothing was wrong.

Back at their room, Mercedes was grateful to see that Baena was still sleeping. She felt the need to make amends before she left. She hung her towel to dry on the row of hooks by the door and then hunted through the few items of casual clothing she had stowed away in her and Baena's shared pull-out drawer under their bunk. Baena's casual clothes – only a small portion of which she actually wore – took up about three-quarters of the space and were much more well-made and in finer fabrics than her own. Though she'd never admit it, Baena frequently tried to play down that she was a Sina native and as a result, usually stuck to her shabbier clothes in order to fit in.

"Whatcha doin', early birdie?" came Baena's sleepy voice. Mercedes looked up and saw her propping her chin on her hand on the bunk rail, eyes still half-closed and a gentle smile on her face. The strengthening morning light made her pale skin warm. It amazed and humbled her that Baena could forgive so easily.

The perfect way to make amends with Baena suddenly occurred to Mercedes. "Actually," she began, pretending to look shyly away, "I could use your help. I need to, um, look nice today. I know you've wanted to do different stuff with my hair…"

Baena's face brightened, "You'll let me play with it?"

Mercedes shrugged and nodded with a smirk.

"Do you have a date? Oh my god you have a date," Baena said as she scrambled out of bed and down the ladder at the end of the bunk. "That's why you didn't want me to come with you! Sneaky!"

It wasn't true in the slightest but Mercedes didn't contradict her. "You found me out," she shrugged again, raising her arms and letting them fall to her sides.

"I bet I know who it is," Baena said in a singsong voice. She swept around Mercedes and pulled out the one stool in the room that they'd shoved in the corner; it was dragged into the middle of the room between the bunks and she commanded Mercedes to sit, which she did. Baena immediately began fussing with a towel and a comb. "Oh! And you can borrow some of my clothes!"

"I don't think they'll fit…" Mercedes began.

"We'll figure something out."

* * *

><p>Not long later Mercedes left Baena with promises to tell her all about her 'romantic tryst' when she got back. She headed for the stables, tugging on the unfamiliar dress Baena had procured from the depths of the drawer for her to wear. Baena had substituted Mercedes' usual riding boots for a pair of simple brown flats – luckily they wore the same shoe size if nothing else – and proclaimed it perfect. The only reason the violet dress fit was by virtue of it wrapping around her middle and securing with a tie. Frustrated by its lack of pockets, she had slid the piece of paper Rico had obtained for her up one of the three-quarter-length sleeves.<p>

It was surreal. Compliments and lingering glances were given to her as she made her way out of the barracks. She felt like a different person when she caught her reflection in a window – Baena had parted her hair in such a way that even her undercut was hidden, and pinned it completely up against the back of her head – and it was at direct contrast with what she may have to do. The visual lie and her lack of gear or weapon unsettled her, but she had to accept its necessity. She wrapped her dark green shawl, the one Julia had given her, more tightly around her and tried to smile. Her bangle dug into her ribs.

Once she has saddled Sabine, she checked to make sure no one was around and pulled the piece of paper from her sleeve, unfolding it. She was surprised it wasn't sealed. Instead, at the top was scribbled a brief note – 'Show this at gate' – in handwriting she didn't recognize. There was then a typed sentence followed by an embossed seal.

"'Specialist Research Department. Access to Exhibit Seven and Article 20A, unguided – one hour.'" she read. She peered at the seal and determined it to be a laurel wreath surrounding a shield with a simple, equal-armed cross in the center. "The Commander-in-Chief's seal," she said, and rapidly re-folded the note and stuffed it back up her sleeve. _Why the fuck would the Commander-in-Chief of the entire fucking military want me to go to a library department if he's really endorsing my potential assassination of the King? And unarmed?_

Mercedes reasoned that she didn't have much choice. She had forty-five minutes before the trial began and any opportunity for her to help the Commanders and her friends would rapidly diminish. If she was to find clarity, this was her chance.

As she pulled herself into the saddle, she decided to have faith. After all, maybe there was something about – or in – the library that would prove useful. And if there wasn't, she would damn well figure something else out.

When Wall Sina was in sight, Mercedes diverted Sabine off the main road and switched to riding side-saddle for effect. Despite the nerves in her stomach, she tried to re-mould her face into one of innocence. She passed through the gate and once on the other side, she drew Sabine to a stop next to one of the Military Police attendants.

"Excuse me," she said sweetly. The older man's frown vanished. "I was asked to show you this." She procured the note and leaned over for him to take it.

Confused, he opened it. Mercedes wasn't sure exactly what it was supposed to mean to him, and hoped she didn't have to do any explaining. She watched him rub his thumb over the seal.

"Ah, right. We've been expecting you," he said. Mercedes hid her surprise behind a smile and a delighted laugh she'd heard Baena do. "We're told you need the library." He stepped up beside Sabine and began to point ahead. "If you go straight, you'll want to head for the palace but make a left at the jeweler's. The road will curve a little past a park, and you'll see the library straight in front of you. Can't miss it." He handed her note back.

"Thank you," she gave a gracious, wider smile. "That's very kind." She had no idea what role she was meant to be playing but this seemed as good as any.

"No problem, ma'am."

She moved on, following the main road.

It was all very strange. They'd been expecting her? They gave her directions to the fucking library? They didn't think it odd that she – effectively looking like a civilian – had a random note stating nothing in particular with the Commander-in-Chief's seal?

The squared-off facade of the palace, with its squat, rounded towers on each corner, loomed ahead. She had been inside Mitras a couple of times since she'd transferred back from the Survey Corps and started shadowing Rico, but not for very long and only on official business. Everything was very clean on first glance, the buildings regimental and uniform in appearance, shops sold luxuries rather than essentials, windows had boxes of flowers hanging in front of them. She wondered why Baena would have ever wanted to leave.

As she passed through the street and searched for the jeweler's, however, she noticed that there were several Military Police soldiers on patrol – more than seemed reasonable. There were also workers cleaning and repairing various spots on roofs and high walls, and there were a few smashed barrels and handcarts swept to one side. Broken glass was in the gutter and there were bullet holes everywhere.

_What happened here?_ she wondered. She began to listen as best she could.

"They nearly ran over my Timothy!"

"…believe they'd reach this far…"

"George and I saw the Police chasing seven of them!"

"…telling you, maneuvering gear but with guns as well!"

"…Captain Levi…"

"…don't know where they went…"

"…Smith on trial in less than an hour. That'll be it once and for all."

Mercedes frowned. If Captain Levi had been here, so had the Squad. But why? Hanji had mentioned that Eren and Historia had actually been kidnapped – had they been brought here and Jean and the others tracked them? And what was this talk of maneuvering gear with guns? That shouldn't have been possible. But no one was saying anything about any Survey Corps members having been killed, at least.

She saw the sign for Hoffmann's Jewelers above its red-painted door, and turned left at the corner on which it stood and into the shadow of the buildings. Conscious of the time, she snapped Sabine's reins to speed them into a steady trot. As the road curved just as promised, a park appeared on her right that was about the size of her grandmother's yard, complete with fountain and meandering path and garden beds. It was a beautiful waste, in her opinion. As she moved past the ornamental trees that were flushing with spring, she was greeted by the warm stone steps and five-story façade of the library. As she looked the building over, it became apparent to her that this wasn't a complete ruse after all.

Separated only by a small moat, the eastern wing of the library faced the palace – and exactly where she knew the throne room to be.


	13. Chapter 13: Darkness

**Chapter 13: Darkness**

It was dark. Completely and utterly dark. When would they come to fetch him, take him to the throne room? It must be soon – they'd stopped bringing him water. He'd been in this blackness for the past day and in a way, it was worse than the beatings. It made the real cell dissolve and replaced it with one of his own making. Every thought became a bar, every possibility he'd ever contemplated a link in the chains of his shackles. Reason and strategy and purpose had become mere words on his father's chalkboard once again.

_Humanity was born in the dark – will it return there, too? What is it we've been fighting all along?_ Erwin thought. _No, stop this. You must be clear in your mission. You cannot falter now._

The door opened and the weak light from the outer hall spread across the floor down the short line of cells. But instead of the sound of keys, Erwin only heard a single pair of slow footsteps. Into the light stepped the familiar silhouette of a short, broad-shouldered man in a trench coat. Just one silhouette. The door closed behind him, casting them both into darkness again.

Erwin waited. He felt like he had spent his entire life waiting, obscurely – just as he believed humanity had. Sitting in the dark, waiting to be dragged into the light, denied truth and sometimes denied even hope. Left with nothing but one's inner thoughts. Consequently he'd sometimes wondered, as he did at this very moment, if he'd had it wrong all along, and it wasn't the light that held truth or hope – rather, that it was the darkness.

"They'll come for you soon," said Commander-in-Chief Darius Zackly.

"I know," Erwin said.

After a pause, Zackly said, "I wanted you to know that I've let your pet cat into the house. For better or worse." Another hesitation, and then the door opened again. Before Erwin could reply he was gone, and the darkness was back.

It took a moment for Erwin to process his cryptic statement. When he finally caught his meaning, he clenched his teeth. _Mercedes. But why? What has he done?_

* * *

><p>After showing the library staff the note she'd been given and they'd inspected the seal, they had given Mercedes small, uncertain smiles and one of them had led her up the four flights of stairs to the topmost floor without a word. At the top there extended a long, glossy-floored hall with a window at the end. The right side had a couple of open doorways and several closed single doors that she suspected hid smaller rooms, but the left side – the eastern side – had only a single pair of double doors, centrally-placed. She knew the room would be large even before the door had been opened for her.<p>

The elderly attendant's mass of keys jingled and the loud clack of one of the doors unlocking echoed down the hall. He held the door for her. "One hour," he said. Mercedes tried to read his face: when she thanked him the smile he gave her was again small, but the uncertainty seemed to have replaced by a sadness. "I have to lock the door behind you," he added apologetically, "to keep access secure from unwelcome guests."

"That's fine," she said happily. And truly, it was. She could pick a lock if she had to or bust down the door if all else failed.

He nodded to himself and Mercedes stepped inside, letting the door be closed behind her. She heard it lock again and the attendant's footsteps died away; she turned to face the room, the note from the Commander-in-Chief in hand.

Dark wood paneling halfway up the walls, a painted fifteen-foot ceiling, rich carpets on the floor. Maybe thirty by thirty, with the majority of the eastern, outermost wall covered in floor-to-ceiling windows with thick navy drapes. The central pair had been drawn back, allowing a thick column of brilliant morning sunshine to alight on the gilded spines of the books on the shelves opposite and a few various-sized freestanding glass cases. A cold fireplace was to her right at one end, around which was gathered a settee and armchairs upholstered in jewel tones. The amount of knowledge this room had to contain was mindboggling to her, the temptation to pour over everything like offering her a drink after a long time in a desert.

But it was to Mercedes' left that her eye was drawn and rested. At this end of the room was an ornately-carved table maybe twice the size of the kitchen table at her grandmother's. At one end was a pale blue box and at the other, two straight-backed chairs – one at the head of the table and the second to its right. One had a plate full of delicious-looking hot food in front of it, while the other had only an empty plate. Steam rose into the beam of sunlight.

Mercedes frowned and checked the room again, stashing the note back up her sleeve. There was no one else here, and there was only one way in and out that she could see. The room was deathly quiet.

"What the fuck is this?" she asked herself in a whisper.

She walked toward the table, her gaze passing between the place setting and the blue box. On her way, she noticed that one of the display cases – unlocked, labeled 'Exhibit 7' – held two rifles that didn't look standard. Once she'd reached the table, she could see that even the two pewter goblets matched the plates – one was full of what looked like a red wine and the other was starkly empty. The smell of cooked meat, gravy, bread and vegetables reached out for her.

The top of the blue box had a small placard that labeled it 'Article 20A'. She carefully lifted the top away and set it aside. On the plush black interior lay a simple – what looked like unfinished – gold-painted, humanoid mask, its fastening ribbons pooled delicately underneath.

Mercedes felt her skin crawl. She glanced between the mask, the display case, the locked door, the window, the two places set for dinner. She felt the note up her sleeve as if the seal were branding the inside of her elbow. _What is this? They…they must have known. This was arranged. By who? Zackly? Erwin? Both? Or Pixis, even? But why the two place settings and only one helping of food? A last meal?_ She lifted the mask, let the black ribbons slip through her fingers.

Rico's words came back to her: _"As easily as they can grant you freedom, they can snuff you out."_ But so did Erwin's: _"__You are still searching for clarity, and for something to believe in. This is that way. Deep down, you know that too. What may appear to be a crisis of confidence is in fact the motivation, the conviction, that sets you apart."_

_There's still time – you can still walk away,_ she tried to reason with herself. But she was walking up to the display case of Exhibit Seven, carefully sliding off the top lid and placing it on the rug. She was reaching in and lifting out one of the rifles – old-looking yet, amazingly, breach-loading; clean and even more surprisingly, loaded – and seeing a worn carving of the name 'Carello' on its stock. She was shaking. A clock she hadn't previously noticed on the mantle struck Nine A.M.

"What is this?" she moaned.

As the clock continued to chime, Mercedes hurried over to the window, keeping out of sight but craning her neck to see past the curtains, across the narrow moat and into the nigh on matching windows of the throne room. She could see the four chairs of the military officials in front of the raised platform on which sat the throne, its two guards with spears. She could see King Fritz as he leaned his head on his hand. It was so clear a shot it was ridiculous, farcical.

And she could also see how Commander Erwin Smith was led in front of these Chairs, this throne, and pushed to his knees in chains. The clock stopped chiming.

Mercedes' heartrate sped up, despite her trying to calm herself. "How am I supposed to know?" she asked. "How am I supposed to know?"

_You still have a choice,_ some distant voice told her in her mind even as she rushed back to the table and put on the mask, tying it securely behind her head. It was like her body was moving independently of her mind. She grabbed one of the dining chairs and with the rifle in hand, she pulled it back to the window. One portion of the window was opened slowly so as not to attract attention with a glare off the panes. _You still have a choice. You can walk away. There's no guarantee of a way out if you take this shot._

She thought she could make out Erwin speaking, now. Who really knew what he was saying? Pixis – she could see Commander Pixis there now, too, in his formal long coat.

Mercedes crouched and placed the rifle on the floor for a moment. She tugged off her shawl and re-wrapped it around her shoulders and over her head, tucking in the ends to form a hood to make her silhouette ambiguous.

_How am I supposed to know if Erwin's plan is successful? If it isn't, how am I supposed to know if this is the right thing to do? _she thought. She remembered telling Jean that she wouldn't know until she aimed and at the time, she was comfortable with that answer. Now she wasn't so sure. She felt like the empty space at the table was watching her even though a glance over her shoulder didn't reveal anyone.

_You may gain clarity – you may help the fate of humanity – but you may lose those you love in the process._

Mercedes plucked the rifle from the floor and propped the barrel on the back of the dining chair, bracing the butt against her shoulder. Her thumb grazed the carving of her surname but she had no room to think about its meaning. She sighted along the barrel, wavering back and forth by millimeters as she sought the perfect shot. Her finger caressed the trigger. She stilled her heavy breathing. There was nothing to do but wait for a sign. She knew she should be thinking of an escape plan but everything seemed drowned out other than her, the rifle, the King, and Erwin.

_You can still walk away,_ that voice compelled her.

"No. I can't walk away," she whispered. _That night I left to make the run to the Wall – from then on Jean and I would forever be finding our way back to each other. The only way I can get back to him now is to face this. Titans, Burning or not, mean nothing in the face of the true corruption inside these Walls. Evil comes from within, and so must peace. This revolution has to come to pass – either by the Commander's hand or mine – or Jean and I will never have a chance at a life together._

* * *

><p>Mercedes wasn't sure how long she waited. It seemed as though during the time she crouched there, her arms frozen in position and her hands holding the rifle so tightly that it became part of her body, that her world had inverted. What must have been mere minutes became hours; the grand planes of the windows of the throne room became lines lost in the minute movement of the military officials' lips; the sunshine that stifled her breathing through the mask became an isolating darkness that both panted down her neck and helped her focus. She began to wonder if she would ever have her answer and if so, if it was to be found in a bullet to the King's head or the second, empty space at the table.<p>

Suddenly, they were hauling Erwin to his feet. Mercedes breathed in sharply and held it. They were turning to take him away. She closed one eye, aligned with King Fritz's skull, aimed –

Pixis' aide, Anka, burst into the throne room. She hammered her fist to her chest in a salute and shouted something. Everyone froze, and then looked at one another in panic. There were wild gesticulations and more shouts.

_What's going on?_ Mercedes thought as her eyes flickered rapidly from individual to individual, trying to take in what she could.

Commander Pixis held up a hand and seemed to order something. A dark-haired, stout military official stood before the King in objection. The other three soon grouped together to confer with him. A slenderer dark-haired man that she was fairly sure was Commander Nile Dok, of the Military Police, received words from them and then stood to one side, speaking animatedly.

And then, the doors to the throne room parted again and an older man with glasses, a beard and a trench coat appeared, backed by several soldiers with rifles. Everyone in the throne room seemed surprised at his entry and looked aghast as he continued to speak. After a moment, he showed Erwin a piece of paper.

The stout military official then began to shout at the King and kick his throne. Erwin's shackles were unlocked and dropped to the ground. Some of the newly-arrived soldiers held up their rifles and along with Pixis and the man in the trench coat, subdued the other officials and bodyguards around the King.

Mercedes let out the breath she'd held, and lowered her own rifle. When the man in the trench coat wandered forward with his hands behind his back, closer to the windows, and looked directly at her, Mercedes then knew that she was looking at Commander-in-Chief Zackly. He looked at her for a moment more and then turned away, revealing the dark shield with a plain white, equal-armed cross on the back of his coat.

* * *

><p>Jurgen shuffled back to the double doors of the Special Research Department, pulling the wad of silver keys out of his pocket. As instructed, an hour had passed. He took a moment to find the right key – rarely-used, small – and unlocked one of the doors with a jingle.<p>

He found the young lady he'd shown in earlier on the other side of the door a few steps away. He took a step back in surprise and chuckled. "Ready, I see?" he said. A glance over her shoulder showed him that the room looked untouched, as if she'd merely stood in it for the past hour.

"Yes, quite," she said with a charming smile.

"Erm, it was mentioned that you may want to borrow Exhibit Seven from us for further study…" he recalled.

Her smile didn't fade. Without hesitation she replied, "That won't be necessary, but thank you." She slipped past him, draping her emerald green shawl over the crook of her arm.

Jurgen shrugged to himself, locked the door behind them, and followed her back down the hall.


	14. Chapter 14: Laid Bare

**Chapter 14: Laid Bare**

No matter how much she wanted to flee as fast as she could from the library and that eerie Special Research room, Mercedes forced herself to ride Sabine at a casual pace and remain sidesaddle. Encouragingly, there were far less Military Police around than there had been when she'd arrived and many more Garrison soldiers. Like falling into the flow of a herd, she followed the people of Sina as they drew toward the central square in front of the palace and became a crowd. Their points and murmurs were directed at the gallows originally intended for Erwin's execution.

Mercedes hovered on the periphery, letting the pedestrians move past her. She watched two armed attendants and Erwin and Zackly climb onto the platform to speak to the crowd, and she waited to listen. She noticed then that one of Erwin's eyes was almost swollen shut and he looked more disheveled than she'd ever seen him, even after battle, despite now being cloaked in his own formal long coat. His resolute gaze found her but only briefly, and his expression did not change.

"We stand here before you to offer clarity," Zackly announced, his voice booming around the square. The crowd fell quiet. "Many of you are no doubt surprised to see that Commander Erwin Smith, of the Scouting Legion, stands beside me rather than in the noose that was prepared for him. This is because it is due to the Commander's efforts and those of his men that the truth has been unveiled – the monarchy under the former King Fritz has been disposed. The old regime has fallen."

The crowd began to mutter among themselves. Mercedes kept her face neutral, as did Erwin.

"Let it be understood: this was not done lightly, or because we want military providence over the Walls," Zackly continued. "There was evidence that the old regime was acting in its own, self-preservative interests, to the detriment of the people. _Our_ sole interest is in the welfare of humanity and ergo, the restoration of the true monarchy to the throne. We will work tirelessly to do this. The first step has been taken today."

Zackly, Erwin and the attendants then descended from the stage in the rising cacophony of the crowd. She saw several figures with what looked like notepads push their way to Commander Nile Dok. Erwin and Zackly then climbed into a carriage and it edged forward slowly until people stood aside to let it through.

_That's it, then,_ Mercedes thought. On the surface it was almost anticlimactic. She turned her horse to leave and the carriage rode past her.

* * *

><p>"Is that her?" Zackly asked as the carriage edged forward, prompting the crowds to part.<p>

Erwin looked to where Zackly was nodding – a woman in a purple dress atop a black mare that they were passing – and though she looked like any Sina native, Erwin knew it was indeed Mercedes. He'd seen her from the gallows. Deep down, part of his gratefulness for the success of the coup was devoted to Mercedes not having to pull the trigger and insodoing taint her life forever – or whatever would remain of it. But his uncertainty as to why the Commander-in-Chief would have helped get her into place for an assassination gave him pause.

"Who?" he feigned.

"The Carello girl. Your contingency plan."

What was he after? What did it matter to put a face to a name? How did he find out her name to begin with? Erwin could only reason that Zackly must have gleaned that information from Pixis, since he himself had been adamant about exposing her role to as few people as possible for her own safety. And now the topmost military official not only knew about her, but had helped her be accomplice to all this? Furthermore he'd done it so well that apparently she didn't even need to be armed.

At Erwin's silence, Zackly laughed to himself. "Doesn't matter, I suppose." He crossed his arms.

Though Zackly had obviously dismissed it, Erwin was still uncomfortable. He'd have to find out more another time, another way. Perhaps Pixis knew more. But for now, diversion was the best solution.

He breathed deeply in, and returned to the thoughts that had kept him quiet during the Commander-in-Chief's speech on the gallows. He remembered the look of dismay in Hanji's eyes when he'd told her she would be Commander in his stead should he fall, the expressions of his men. He remembered showing up on the doorstep of Julia Carello – the woman that had contributed so much of her skills to humanity's destiny, whose son that had saved his life – to tell her that he'd come to enlist her only granddaughter to a cause that could only end in hell. He remembered Levi promising that he would do whatever it took, including losing yet another squad so soon after they'd formed.

"The best choice for humanity would have been to leave everything to the old monarchy," Erwin said lowly. He remembered what he had heard the pressmen and civilians suggest to Nile – that now, the people simply didn't know what to believe any more. Neither did he.

* * *

><p>It was only when Mercedes was back in her room at the Trost Garrison HQ that she felt some measure of safety. She kicked off the shoes she'd borrowed from Baena and untied the dress, letting it fall to the floor, and collapsed on her bed. As if it'd been saving its energy, her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. Having blocked out any and all speculation at the time in favor of focus, her brain began to digest everything that had happened in the past three hours.<p>

"Start with what you know, come on," she said into her pillow.

Erwin had originally given her the assignment. The assignment was to be prepared to testify her knowledge of Titans, and to help the Survey Corps escape if riots began. He'd also asked her to be prepared to kill, and to be prepared to assassinate the King if all else failed. He hadn't specified how or when, or that Commander-in-Chief Zackly was involved. He'd said only that he and Pixis had arranged that she be able to move unhindered around the Walls, and Rico had confirmed this. Rico had been the one to go on to say that Mercedes' freedom had been endorsed by Zackly – presumably from Pixis, when they'd discussed all of this – and suggested that he'd had his eye on her for far longer than the past month or two.

And then…and then the note with his official seal. Walking into Sina unarmed to potentially spark the coup. Being _expected_, yet not questioned. The fucking library. Being led willy-nilly to that room without even being asked her name. And speaking of names – the unlocked display case with the non-standard, functional yet clearly old rifle with her family name carved into it and the suggestion that she take it with her. The perfect shot. The provided mask. The two plates, two goblets – one full and the other empty. She had wanted to curl up on the floor and sob in confusion and yet…

She had been prepared to take the shot. She had been prepared to kill the King. Although grateful it hadn't come to that, and grateful that she had made it back here alive, she still felt unsettled. The words 'expendable', 'no longer useful', 'thrown to the wolves' came back to her. Was her involvement truly over?

Mercedes felt the sudden urge to go to Julia. The image of the Carello name carved into that rifle – a rifle that somehow managed to have multiple chambers even though to her knowledge no such thing existed – was emblazoned in her mind. She had to know more than she was letting on. After all, she'd already kept some things from her, such as her parents' history with the Scouting Legion. "Maybe she can shed some light on this morning's clusterfuck." She stood to get dressed.

There was a knock on the door and a moment later it opened. Mercedes whirled around, pulling the blanket from her bed to cover herself.

"Whoa! Sorry!" Fhalz threw his hands up and averted his eyes. "You got undressed fast."

"What the hell, Fhalz?" Mercedes demanded. "Don't you wait before you come in?"

"How was I to know you were intent on shedding?" he retorted. "I'm sorry, okay. I saw you come back." He came fully inside the room and shut the door, remaining facing it.

Mercedes sighed and let the blanket fall back on the bed. She picked up Baena's dress from the floor and draped it over the bunk rail, and then rooted out her own, familiar clothes. "I suppose it doesn't really matter after Baena's 'trust exercise' last autumn," she mumbled. Seeing it out of the corner of her eye she quickly scooped up Zackly's note and hid it in her bra.

"Oh yeah, that time we all got naked and stood there dumb as Titans in the training yard for five minutes," he mused. "I still don't fully understand that."

"'No secrets'," Mercedes quoted. "Remove all judgment. Said we'd never feel ashamed in front of each other again." She buttoned her brown trousers and pulled on her favorite rust-colored tank top.

"Got that right," Fhalz said. He turned around and leaned against the door. "Actually that's kinda why I'm here."

Mercedes negotiated her foot into its riding boot. "The naked part or the no secrets part?" As she played back her own words, her movements slowed – she knew the answer.

"The no secrets part," Fhalz confirmed. His voice was stern and reluctant.

Mercedes looked up at him. The heavy, deep blue of his eyes seemed even darker under the concerned crease of his brow and his small mouth had set itself into a thin line. She'd seen this expression a few times and unfortunately, the closer they'd grown over the past years the more difficult it was for her to remain unaffected by it. Their isolated survival when so many of their fellow Western Division comrades had not had hung over them like a shared penance – a fifth person at their table, the slightest pull on every line they cast. Fhalz was a confidant to her in a way that Baena and Oliver never could be, despite being close to her in other ways. And unfortunately that gave him a gravity that she'd never fully be able to escape, especially not once she was caught in it – as she was now.

"You weren't on a date, were you?" he asked.

She sighed, and after a moment broke eye contact to pull on her second boot. "Come with me to my grandmother's. We'll talk there."


	15. Chapter 15: The Empty Plate of Memory

**Chapter 15: The Empty Plate of Memory**

Throughout the ride to their hometown of Klorva, Mercedes debated what to tell Fhalz. He'd always been the one that knew anything she had to tell her squad first, but she didn't know if her sojourn to Mitras could fall into that category. At the same time, she'd effectively promised to tell him _something_, now, and the burden was becoming too great to bear alone. Of course, if Fhalz knew then it wouldn't be long before Baena and Oliver knew, too – but was that so bad? Teasing aside, nothing serious ever left their circle and she was confident that would hold true even under torture.

_And who knows when I'll see Jean again._ The resurgence of this thought compounded her anxiety even more. She had to distract herself from it. "Were you actually doing anything with your day off?" she asked, turning to Fhalz beside her on his chestnut mare.

"Not really," he shrugged. "I hardly ever do anything with my day off except read and I'm out of books."

Mercedes thought of the library she'd been to. Fhalz would have swum in all those books given half the chance, as she would have had there not been a much more pressing issue. Although not as wired for strategy – he was only sixteen, after all, like Oliver – Fhalz's brain was something to contend with. His eidetic memory in particular was sometimes downright unsettling. She would love to get him and Armin in a room one day and see what happened.

Suddenly she was aware of Fhalz calling, "'Cee? 'Cee. 'Cee you're passing it up. You're passing up your own grandmother's house, your childhood home. 'Cee!"

Mercedes halted Sabine, surprised that the mare hadn't found her own way home without Mercedes' direction, and turned around. She sheepishly rejoined Fhalz at the mouth of the street that would take them to Julia's.

"Wow, you really do have a lot on your mind," he said, and snapped his reins to walk them down the narrow dirt road.

Julia's house-come-workshop came into view once they were past the other two-story homes, standing on its own a little ways back from the road as it curved. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Mercedes wondered if it'd been such a good idea for Erwin to suggest its use as a hideout or rendezvous point. As they drew closer she didn't hear the familiar tinkering in the workshop and the front door was closed.

The pair dismounted and led their horses around the back to the yard, where Bashka grazed alone and looked up at their arrival. The older horse wandered eagerly over to meet them as they shooed the mares through the metal-rung gate and closed it behind them.

"Granna?" Mercedes called as she and Fhalz entered the house through the back door. The living area and kitchen were dark.

"Maybe she's not home," Fhalz suggested but she could see how he was tensing, too.

Mercedes noted her grandmother's broom that she frequently used as a walking stick propped up by the staircase. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without that even if she had left Bashka at home. _There's a chance she's upstairs,_ she told herself.

The pair moved silently through the large, open-plan room; its relative darkness and emptiness reminded Mercedes of the fog that had shrouded the gate that morning the Burning Titan appeared. On her way Mercedes grabbed a kitchen knife and passed another to Fhalz, even though there was no sign of a forced entry or a struggle, or indeed anything out of place beyond the usual chaos of living with Julia. They ascended the short flight of stairs to the upper, bedroom-and-bathroom devoted floor above. Mercedes' old room immediately to the right had its door shut, but Julia's – in front of them and slightly to the left – was ajar. She and Fhalz hung back out of sight as she reached beyond the door frame and pushed the door fully open. They darted inside.

A trio of voices screamed intimidatingly at one another and Mercedes and Fhalz dipped low as a long-handled copper pan of some kind was swung at their heads. Mercedes placed a reassuring hand on Fhalz's shoulder as Julia stumbled backward a little under her own momentum and righted herself. She was still in her nightgown and her hair was loose and ratty; the bed was unmade.

"Julia! It's me, and Fhalz!" Mercedes said. "What the hell did you just swing at us?"

"It's a bed-warmer – you use it for warming your bed and knocking intruders the fuck out!" Julia yelled back, calming her breathing. She dropped the bed-warmer to the rug with a dull clatter.

Then, she surprised Mercedes by seizing her into an embrace, sobbing. Mercedes frowned; Fhalz took the kitchen knife from her so that she could embrace Julia's tiny, shivering body. Her fingers were digging so hard into her back and skull that it hurt.

"Granna, what's wrong?" Mercedes asked soothingly as Julia heaved in a loud sniff. They rocked slightly from side to side.

"I'm not allowed to be worried?" Julia trilled. "You could have died today. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

Mercedes' eyes shifted back and forth as if to divine answers from the rug. Julia knew? "That's every day, Granna. What's so special about today?"

"The trial, that's what. I figured –" she sniffed again and finally let go of Mercedes, sitting on the edge of the bed, "– you would be there and that it could all go wrong and they'd hang you too."

Mercedes smiled a little to herself and chuckled softly. She passed a hand over her face because not only was Julia having one of her endearing moments, but it'd added to the bedlam in her brain caused by everything that'd happened this morning. She glanced at Fhalz, who was shifting feet awkwardly. Mercedes was reminded that Julia was still in her nightgown and that this was probably making him uncomfortable.

Julia took her hand and Mercedes returned her gaze to her. She was smiling up at her. "I'm glad you're all right. But why are you here? I wasn't expecting you for another week."

Guessing that the conversation would be happening here, in Julia's small and cramped bedroom, after all, Mercedes leaned over to the little dresser by the door and plucked Julia's everyday, charcoal-colored jacket off one of the drawer knobs, draping it over her shoulders.

"Oh, sorry Fhalz," Julia said and pulled her arms into the jacket. She didn't bother to pull her hair out from the collar and it bunched there, turning her torso and head into the silhouette of a mushroom.

"It's fine, Ms Julia," he said and put the kitchen knives on the dresser.

Mercedes sat on the rug in front of her and gestured for Fhalz to do the same. In answering Julia she'd have to answer him, too. She breathed in deep and turned her head to him. "Fhalz, this is confidential. I can't go into the details but, I made an agreement with Commander Erwin to secure the escape of other members of the Scouting Legion if…if certain things didn't go to plan. I agreed to help him by testifying what I knew about Titans, if he needed it. You've probably heard the rumors by now that King Fritz was dethroned due to not being the real monarchy." She paused and checked her listeners for understanding.

Julia shrugged as she dried her tears. "I hadn't heard yet but he did say it'd be today if it happened at all."

"I heard," said Fhalz.

"The military are trying to instate the real monarchy." A glance at Julia's critical glare had her nodding and admitting, "So yes it was a coup."

"Holy shit," Fhalz said and propped his head in his hands. His hair skimmed his shoulders and curtained his face.

"I wasn't at the trial, not technically," Mercedes continued. Her throat grew dry alarmingly fast. "I was at the library in Mitras opposite the throne room. I was prepared to kill the King if the coup was not successful."

"Wait, what?" Fhalz's head snapped up. "You…you were ready to assassinate –"

"The King, yes, Fhalz, the King. How many other ways do I need to say it?" she sputtered. "Turns out I didn't have to after all, thank fuck." She looked up at Julia for support.

Julia had leant back a little and lowered her head. It was threatening, the way she looked at her and the way she asked, "How did you get into that library? How did you get within thirty yards of the palace while armed without being Military Police?"

Mercedes felt her expression tip into helplessness. "That's why I'm here, Granna. There was something very strange about the whole thing –"

"Stranger than willingly pointing your rifle at the King?"

"– I was asked to go there, unarmed. I borrowed some of Baena's clothes to fit in. Everyone I met from Sina's gate onward said they were expecting me. They didn't even ask my name, just showed me upstairs to the top floor of the library and left me alone in there for an hour." The full, unsettling absurdity of the morning hit her again. "There was this rifle with our name on it and a mask and two plates on a fucking table and the clearest shot in the world –" she cut herself off and stopped her wild gesticulations to place a hand on Julia's knee. Her mind was rushing too quickly for her tongue to keep her words organized. "Granna, what do you know about Commander-in-Chief Zackly? And is there some kind of tradition or symbolism about setting an empty place at the dinner table?"

Mercedes was alarmed to see Julia's face grow pale. She clutched the jacket under her chin and when she spoke it was a frightened, whispered demand. "Why are you asking me about these two things together?"

She was taken aback. Fhalz, too, looked concerned. Mercedes began slowly, "Zackly was the one to endorse my movements. He sent a note with his seal along with specifications that I was to look like a scholar and go unarmed to the library. I was taken to the Special Research Department – half of the top floor, facing the throne room – and allowed access to Article 20A, which was a plain gold mask, and Exhibit 7, which was a couple of non-standard rifles, one with 'Carello' carved into the stock. But there were these two places set at the table – one heaped with hot food and the other with nothing."

Julia's face had grown ever more frightened. She'd never seen her grandmother frightened – it'd always seemed impossible. Her eyes had widened and her mouth was agape.

"Granna, what is it?"

"It used to be tradition to lay an extra, albeit empty place at the table to honor the departed," Julia whispered, "on special occasions. Once…once we attended a feast with Zackly. It was before a mission. This was back before he was even Commander." Mercedes' heartrate increased as she noticed tears gathering in Julia's eyes. "I remember all the places were set with food except for two – the ones belonging to your Uncles Alejandro and Valentin." When she blinked the tears spilled over her lashes. "The next day they were dead."

Mercedes was mortified. She'd never heard that story before. "What?"

Julia leaned over and grabbed Mercedes' shoulders, her face red. "He framed them, my love. He used them, turned them into scapegoats for others' mistakes. Carellos are loyal and that loyalty is often abused. And now – now he's trying to do that with you and I don't understand how or why – but you have to leave," she rose to her feet and tried to pull Mercedes up too, "my darling you need to go into hiding. You," she reached out and pulled Fhalz up, too, "and anyone else who has become collateral in this."

Mercedes suddenly felt like she was a child, and that this was the terror she should have felt that day that Julia packed them both up and abandoned the ranch and any hope of seeing her parents again. It was as if it had been repressed until now. She didn't know what to say. Julia was hurrying around her room, prying at the secret compartment behind a plank of the wall and pulling out a leather folio.

"I don't know if Erwin was accomplice to this – for his sake I certainly hope not – but it barely matters. You need to go," Julia repeated.

Mercedes felt her brain begin to thaw from its shock and some of her reasoning return. "But Granna, I didn't actually take the shot. I didn't do anything. I didn't even fall for their trick to have me take the rifle."

Julia was beside her again and gripped her arm forcefully. "That may be and I hope I'm being overly-cautious, but if you think this is over then you're more careless than I thought. At best, you're a sort of inverted-alibi. A just-in-case-this-still-goes-wrong." She pushed the folio into Mercedes' hands and began to push them into the hall and down the stairs. "That rifle was one of only three we were able to make and save, after they outlawed and purged humanity of any advances in weaponry that could potentially threaten the King."

"Outlawed? Purged? Threaten – what the fuck?" Fhalz whined as the three of them shambled down the stairs.

"One I gave to your father, so it's lost now. The one in that library must be your grandfather's."

"And the third?" Mercedes found herself trilling back.

"Never you mind. Go to the ranch immediately. There's a map in that folio." She gasped. "Baena, and sweet Oliver – do they know?"

"Not yet," said Fhalz and Mercedes looked fiercely in his direction. His face had become hard and angry-looking – how he always looked when they had a mission.

"Then for gods' sakes don't tell them!" Julia seized Mercedes' arm again. "And Jean?"

Mercedes felt weak. "Of course he knows. But I can't go to him. They're in hiding, too."

Julia seemed to finally calm a little and she nodded, but her stare was still intense. "That's for the best, then. I have a copy of that map. I'll see if I can find him or reach him." She leaned forward and stared up into Mercedes' face, "But you need to leave. I'm so sorry," she shook her head, "I thought I could keep us out of sight, out of mind forever. Those bastards seem intent to keep us in the history books." She began to walk her over to the back door and Fhalz followed. "I'll come find you."

"Granna, please –" They were shoved out onto the back porch.

"Did you trust me when we left?" Julia demanded, her fire returning and burning through her desperation. "When you were five, and I asked you if you wanted to go on an adventure with me to Klorva? Did you trust me?"

"Yes," Mercedes couldn't help but whisper.

"Then trust me now."

Fhalz's hand was on her shoulder, now, gently pulling for them to leave. Mercedes felt herself tearing up as her grandmother did the same. They stared each other down.

Julia managed a quavering smile. "I love you, my dear one."

Mercedes pressed her lips together hard and looked at the ground momentarily, and then fitfully nodded. She looked up. "I love you, too."

"Go," Julia whispered and before she could close the door Mercedes and Fhalz were already stepping off the porch and heading for their horses.


	16. Chapter 16: Promises Kept

**Chapter 16: Promises Kept**

It was Oliver and Fhalz's watch night up at the gate housing. They'd determined that the only way for the four of them to leave Wall Rose alone was to have one individual – in this case Baena – charm their way out with the horses through Karanese using an authorization from Rico that Fhalz was able to forge alarmingly well, and for the others to scale the Wall with their gear. It was deemed that Mercedes should lie low until nightfall, and take the easier task of gathering supplies. Oliver and Fhalz would smuggle rifles to their watch point at the Trost gate.

Nightfall had occurred a couple of hours ago. Mercedes had secured herself in her and Baena's dorm room, finally taking her hair down from the bucket's worth of pins it held, until she'd heard the nearby clock tower strike ten. Baena would be approaching the Karanese gate with their horses and turning on the charm in the way that only she could. It was time for Mercedes herself to move.

There were spare saddle bags and canteens in the storage basement, she knew, which was conveniently next to the kitchen and pantry and would also provide her an easy, unnoticeable way out of the building. She made her way there as casually as she could, acknowledging those she saw but not engaging. Paranoia rippled through her muscles and she tried to keep calm: despite Julia's frantic words, there was no guarantee of when or even if Zackly would move against her. There was still the faintest possibility that her involvement was indeed over and would never be spoken of again.

Her mind turned to Jean, even though she knew the distraction wasn't good for her. But then, when would it ever be good for her? She could only assume that he, along with the others and possibly Erwin and Hanji, now, were in pursuit of Eren and Historia. She still wasn't fully certain of what linked the two, but in light of everything that had been happening lately – particularly the false monarchy's link, via the Wallists, with three of the Titan-shifters – it didn't seem good. If Squad Levi had been inside Sina just yesterday, it seemed likely they were still there, somewhere. It felt so far away. Despite her own troubles, she wanted to be there for him in whatever way she could.

Mercedes slipped into the vacant, mostly dark kitchen, noting that from the sounds of things even the mess hall next door must be empty. Was it really only two days ago that she had stood by that hearth with Jean, sealing a confession with a kiss?

Raised, nervous voices brought her back to the present. She looked at the pantry door that stood open, an armed Garrison member half-in and half-out. "Stay where you are!" he shouted and by the quaver in his voice, Mercedes suspected he was new. This was confirmed when he glanced over his shoulder and she vaguely recognized him, as he did her.

_Damnit, now I'm going to have to step in, _she cursed. _Maybe it's just a vagrant who got lucky._

"Captain!" the new recruit exclaimed. "I caught this guy hiding in here!"

Mercedes held up a hand and stepped forward. She wasn't sure when she'd mysteriously become a captain but it did give her a clue as to the recruit's disposition. "Is he armed?"

"No," the recruit replied but nonetheless trained his gun back into the room.

"Okay, good. Let me handle this," she said calmly. "I want you to go inform Squad Leader Rico," she instructed, purely for a reason to get him out of the room so she could take care of the intruder as quickly as possible, get what she needed and go.

"Yes Sir!"

She was happy he didn't question her. Maybe he really did believe she was a captain, fortunately for her. He waited until she took his place at the door, backed up a few paces and then left. Mercedes could see a lanky-looking male in gray trousers and a dingy white shirt with his back to her and his hands propped above his head on the shelves – hardly threatening – but not much else. She reached in to turn up the oil lamp.

Black, short hair, relatively pale skin with a few moles that she could see. Seemed relatively young. His build did not improve with the added light. No shoes. Maybe this was a lucky vagrant after all. Easy enough to deal with.

Mercedes put a hand on her hip and sighed. "Okay, buddy, if you're really that hungry –"

"'Cee? It's really you."

For the briefest of seconds Mercedes was taken back to the charred earth outside the Trost gate. Her blood ran cold – the voice was exactly the same. The young man slowly took his hands away from the shelving and stepped away, turning so she could see his smiling face…

"M-Marco?" Mercedes raised a shaking hand to her mouth and with the other, had the wherewithal to grapple behind her and shut the pantry door. She felt like she was going to be violently sick. In the next moment her legs gave way and she sank to the floor, shivering in disbelief. All other thoughts dropped out of mind. "You – you were dead. Jean identified your body. You were cremated. This can't be real." Had she hit her head somewhere along the line? Was she hallucinating? Was this some cruel and sadistic trick by Zackly?

He was smiling wider, now, and stepping forward to kneel in front of her. He nodded and there seemed to be tears in his eyes, "It's me, I swear. I'm so glad to see you!"

Mercedes flinched and then froze as he embraced her. She was surprised that he was indeed a solid being. He was warm – he wasn't an animated corpse. After a moment pure, unadulterated gratefulness swept through her and through her reason and doubt, and she embraced him in return. She felt herself tearing up. "I don't understand. I don't understand…" she whimpered. "How…" He let her push him back on his haunches and kept smiling as she held his face, inspecting it. The same hair parted down the middle, the same freckles across his cheekbones, the same light brown eyes, no signs of scars or age, as if they were back at bootcamp.

His eyebrows rose sympathetically and though his smile became less broad, it didn't fade entirely. "I didn't mean to upset you; I just had to see you. You still look as beautiful as you did a year ago."

"I still don't understand…" Mercedes wiped furiously at her eyes and rose until she was sitting on her knees.

"I promised you, didn't I?" Marco said. "Back in Trost. I told you I'd find you when all this was over – I'm sorry it took so long! I've missed you so much."

She nodded; Mercedes did remember. He'd saved her, helped with her stupid plan to change out her gas cylinder. Recognized that her hair smelt of plums and remarked that it suited her – like they'd been out for a casual stroll instead of a massacre. She hid her face in her hands and tried to get herself back under control. Grateful as she was to see him, it made no sense whatsoever. Maybe it was the news of potentially being a scapegoat for the strongest military official and the never-before-seen hysteria of her grandmother, but her paranoia couldn't even let this go. It turned her insides into an acidic mix of joy and reluctant distrust.

"I'm glad you're alive, Marco, really I am," she said, and once her heart felt calm enough she looked up. "But how is this possible? We burned you," she intoned.

Marco's smile finally faded and he shook his head, shrugging. "I'm not entirely sure myself. I don't remember much," he said and as his head lowered, the lamp light cast deep shadows on his face, turning it into a skull. "I know that I was caught off guard in Trost after I was separated from the others when we were headed back to the Wall; I remember the Titan attacking me. Everything after that is a blur, full of light and shadows and voices and this awful roaring, like I was walking through fire."

Mercedes' breath caught in her throat. "Fire?" she repeated.

Marco looked back up at her, then, but didn't speak at first. He seemed momentarily afraid of her, or of what she'd said. Mercedes was afraid of what she'd said, too, and of what had begun to silently fall into place in her mind. Marco seemed to sense this, too. She didn't want to believe the conclusion she was coming to. This was Jean's best friend – their friend. A member of the 104th Trainee Squad. She let him take her hand in his and hold tight, just as she tried to hold tight to the past.

"I would have done anything to keep my promise, 'Cee – I've been so lost without you," he said next. His face was pleading. "I know this doesn't make much sense. I believe I know what you're thinking, even. But please trust me. I'm here to protect you. There are things in motion that are truly awful, but I'm going to save you from all of it."

"Save me from what, Marco?" Mercedes asked, and then shook her head. "No, I don't want that. Because allowing you to do that will mean that it's true."

"That what's true?"

"We're not even going to say it. No," she said and struggled to her feet, pulling him with her, "I'm going to be the one protecting you, this time. I can't allow you to do this to yourself. I don't know how it happened or why but I can't let you go any deeper. We're going to get out of here." Screw getting food and water. This was so much bigger than everything, now. She didn't think she'd felt real panic before and here it was taking over her body, driving it into a frenzy. She pulled him behind her out of the back door of the pantry and into the supply basement, headed for outside.

"'Cee –"

"You shouldn't have come. Whether it was for me or some other reason, you shouldn't have come. It's too dangerous."

They broke out into the night and Mercedes pulled him up the ramp that led up from the basement. She looked around her frantically for onlookers but there were none.

"'Cee I can't just leave," Marco objected, pulling back. His tone had been sad, defeated, and it made her pause.

"You can. My squad and I are leaving tonight anyway – so if you've come to protect me, you're going to have to come with me."

"But I promise, I can protect you from here," Marco argued. "They said I could find you and Jean –"

Mercedes began to groan. It was too much. She latched onto him harder and continued to march him.

"– and everything will be fine, but I can't leave now," he finished.

"I'd say that's accurate."

Rifles cocked, and Mercedes and Marco froze. She jerked her head and saw Rico approaching with the new recruit from the pantry behind her. Another group of soldiers surrounded them with rifles aimed. To Mercedes, the look of disappointment on Rico's face felt like they'd already fired. She had nothing to say in their defense.

After a moment Rico said quietly, "Arrest them."


	17. Chapter 17: Fire's Song

**Chapter 17: Fire's Song**

They'd been taken back into the Trost Garrison HQ through the front door and Mercedes was fairly certain it had been deliberate. She recalled the surprised faces of her fellow soldiers when they saw her and had found it difficult not to hide her face in shame. Marco and herself were placed in separate cells in the small jail and although she wanted to warn them about the cells being above-ground, she couldn't bring herself to expose Marco. They'd been left there after Rico merely muttered that she would deal with them after her watch had ended.

That was a few hours ago; any time now, Rico would return. Mercedes paced her cell like an animal, testing every bar and stone in the wall again and again. Every fiber of her being sang with the knowledge that not only were her squadmates waiting for her still, risking their reputations and lives for her, but the need to get Marco to safety. It felt like everything was crumbling around her and she was powerless to stop it. She kicked and screamed and smacked her fists into every surface, clawing at every edge as if she could tear the universe asunder. She'd never been a fan of enclosed spaces and at such a crucial time as this, the effect was tripled. She felt her sense of reason falling out of reach and turn her into a creature of fire.

"I'm telling you, 'Cee, it's going to be okay," Marco tried to tell her for the who-knows-how-many-ieth time.

"How is this okay?" she bawled. "Even if you weren't here – any moment they'll frame me, any moment they'll drag me out into the streets and make me pay for something I didn't do, like they've done to every Carello."

"Mercedes," he said, pressing himself up against the bars that divided their cells and holding his arms out into hers. The use of her full name was like him casting her a lifeline – just as his plea to her old self, back in the streets of Trost, had been. She glanced at him and found his gentle face contorted with concern. "I'm not going to let them harm you. I don't understand why you think you're in danger from 'them', whoever 'they' are, but it's going to be all right."

Mercedes stumbled back toward him as if a dream; she latched onto one of his arms and he tried to hold her steady. "Why did you come here?" she begged. "You're lucky to be alive – no matter how that life was given back to you – why put it in jeopardy again?"

Marco's eyes searched her own. "I had to keep my promise. And they…they said I would be able to protect you and Jean – all I had to do was open the Walls."

Mercedes felt like she was falling from a great height. Her surroundings seemed so very far away and though she knew Marco was just in front of her, she felt like he had been the one to release her over the edge, like he was dropping a stone into a well full of fire. Terror seized her. All she could utter was, "No."

Marco looked pained. "It was the only way."

She heard the door to the cellblock clank open and swing noisily on its hinges.

"'Cee, listen to me," Marco repeated, glancing between her and the door a few cells away. "Whatever happens, stay under my hand. Stay under it," he shook the hand that held her shoulder and then released her, holding it out parallel to the floor.

Mercedes crumpled to the ground, as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. Tears spilt over her eyelashes and streaked her cheeks but she barely felt them. She was too consumed with the knowledge of what she'd unwittingly brought about – everything she had caused from birth, it seemed. She stared up at Marco's pale hand hovering above her like the sun, or a noose.

A single pair of footsteps came to stand in front of her cell. Mercedes didn't turn to look at them, but slowly lowered her head. _So this is it,_ she thought.

"You, of all people," growled Rico. "This is how you repay me? With betrayal? I guide you, teach you all I know, help you, stick my neck out for you, tolerate your precociousness and privilege, _trust you_ – and you throw it back in my face. I find your squad trying to sneak out over the Wall, and best of all, you're sheltering one who compromised our security by sneaking _in_! What am I supposed to think, Carello? How am I supposed to defend you now?"

_I should be warning her. I should be telling her to run, or to shoot us while she still has the chance,_ Mercedes thought distantly. _Why am I not saying anything?_ Suddenly she was back in the bathroom of the trainee dorm rooms, the night she was attacked – the night she'd seen humanity's true face and felt she could watch it all burn without saying a word.

"How could you be such a selfish bitch?" Rico spat in frustration and hammered a fist on the cell bars.

"Don't call her that," said Marco.

_Why am I doing nothing?_ _Why did it have to be Marco?_ She felt sick, weak, disconnected from her body, like she was in a fever-dream, or walking through the pyre they had burned him on. _Where's Jean? Where's Granna?_

"Or what?" Mercedes heard Rico take a couple of steps toward Marco. "And who the hell are you and how did you manage to slip past immigration?"

"It doesn't matter now," replied Marco.

"Oh really? Well if it doesn't, then I'd very much like to know what takes its place."

_It's happening._ She thought back to the library, frozen as she was now, unable to shoot then just as now she was unable to speak. _It's happening. What am I supposed to do?_

"Keeping a promise," Marco whispered. He raised his other hand to his mouth. "Even if it means walking through the fire." He bit his hand hard.

There was a horrendous screech of lightning striking, the ground rumbled under her, and Mercedes felt rather than saw the world erupt into flame; the air around them seemed to jerk, snuffing out its moisture in a second. She pulled her gaze up from her despair to watch as Marco – dear, sweet Marco – caught aflame and began to grow, ribbons of fire becoming new bones, new muscles and inking his new body with light. He crouched as he became too big for the cell and burst through it. Above her, unlike the rest of his body his expanding hand was dark and cold like stone. It too became too big for the cell, ripping the bars apart and toppling the bricks, obscuring her from seeing anything more of him. She could hear Rico shouting before it was lost in the roar of the flames.

Her body acted of its own accord – Mercedes threw herself at the bars of her cell and seized Rico through them, holding her fast even as the iron bars grew hot. Then Marco's hand, now perhaps eight feet in length, formed a cup over them and folded the bars, shielding them from the heat and the rubble. It was uncannily dark except for the blazing, minute gaps between his fingers and where his hand met the ground, like gleaming crazing on a piece of black porcelain. The heat under here threatened to choke them but even in her broken mind Mercedes knew it was better than death.

Though Rico struggled, Mercedes held on with all of her strength and prayed. She could feel more than hear the Garrison HQ tumbling around them; air was sucked through the gaps of Marco's hand and eddied around her as the flames drew more oxygen and no doubt sailed high into the night. Was that the warning bell she heard, or was it a memory?

* * *

><p>Oliver and Fhalz stood rooted to the spot on the gatetower above Trost, their eyes wide and mouths agape. They watched as their Trost headquarters glowed from within and cracked open, tumbling to the ground. Its solid frame and spire were replaced by a tower of flame that grew and grew until it took the form of a crouched figure. When it stood, it was a little taller than the Armored Titan but of slimmer build, bathed in red, golden and blue fire. It was both gloriously beautiful and terrifying.<p>

"The Burning…Titan…" Fhalz breathed. "It's back. It's inside."

Fhalz looked on it horror as it slowly turned to face their direction. The shouts of the Garrison and the public coming awake became a dull roar underneath the call of the warning bells. Cannons thudded and rumbled as they were armed and pushed into better position and he knew they should be helping, but it no longer seemed important.

"Fhalz, what do we do?" Oliver asked, swallowing the fear in his voice.

"I need to get Baena," he whispered, and then repeated it more loudly, more certainly. He had to remember that Mercedes had appointed him as her second-in-command for cases such as these. "Mercedes was down there – something tells me she still is. You go find her; we'll follow shortly. We need to stick together."

"Are you sure?" Oliver readied his gear.

"Baena and I are the fastest; we'll be there before you know it," he tried to reassure the larger young man but it came out as sharp and irritable.

They had only taken two steps in opposite directions when yet again, they froze. Fhalz barely comprehended what he was looking at: as though blown by the wind, the fire was flowing – no, the Burning Titan was running – toward them. Any building in its path was trampled into sizzling embers underfoot; its wedge-shaped face was tucked low and its eyes were white-hot slits; the flames around its hands grew in intensity from orangey-red to violet, to blue to dazzling white.

Fhalz and Oliver were knocked to the cannon tracks as the Burning Titan collided with the Trost gatehouse, destroying the almost-finished new gate and scattering the scaffolding like burnt matches. Intense waves of heat scaled Wall Rose and tumbled over it, stealing the air from their lungs. The spread of Trost had been consumed by bright light – the Titan was right below them.

"What's it doing?" Oliver shouted as he got back to his feet and helped Fhalz do the same.

"We're going to find out and then we're going to go get Mercedes and Baena!" Fhalz shouted back over the roar and sizzle. "We'll make a drop and reverse arc," he advised and pulled his combat glasses over his eyes.

The pair moved to the edge of the gatehouse and turned their backs to Trost. Readying their blades and firing mechanisms, Fhalz counted to three – on three, they jumped backwards and fell from the Wall. Five seconds into the fall, they fired both of their lines into the Wall.

From their new vantage point, Fhalz could see that the Burning Titan had its hands braced against the boulder that blocked the gaping hole made by the Colossal Titan over two years ago.

_It's…it's _melting_ the rock._ Fhalz realized. "Oh no," he managed. "Arc! The heat's too much!" he shouted to Oliver and insodoing felt the heat reach down his throat and parch him from the inside-out.

The pair crouched on the Wall's face and jumped, slinging themselves out and left, away from the heat. A disengagement and re-shoot of their lines swung them safely away into the cooler air.

"Go find Baena!" Oliver shouted as he began to descend to the ground. "I'll go find the Boss! Regroup at HQ!"

* * *

><p><strong>A Note From the Author -<strong> A big shout-out to everyone who has reviewed thus far! Your enthusiasm keeps me going. I hope everyone is enjoying this and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18: Breach

**A Note from the Author:** I'd like to give credit where credit is due - the wonderful characters of Eve and Alois featured from here onward are the property of the awesomely talented **Wings of Wax**, who has kindly allowed me to use them in cameo appearances! They are originally from her 'Survival' saga, which I very much encourage you to check out!  
>On a more minor note, I am aware that I have taken creative liberties with some of the manga-based logistics in this chapter as far as the relative positions of the Scouting Legion and Squad Levi go. :)<br>**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 18: Breach<strong>

Mercedes lay on her back under the door to her cell, Rico prone on top of it. Around them was the charred rubble of the Trost HQ and through the fires and eddying ash she stared up at the stars. The heat of the iron bars against her bare arms was gradually dissipating; the sizzle it had made against the leather of Rico's uniform jacket had given way to the screams of the civilians, heavy running footsteps and the perpetual toll of the bells. It felt so distant. Did it matter anymore where he'd gone?

"Rico," she croaked. Her throat, mouth and eyes were so dry – but Marco had protected her and Rico by proxy. "Can you hear me?"

There was a groan and Mercedes felt rather than saw Rico try to raise herself up; she couldn't see her from her current angle. There was the sickening ripping sound of leather and skin being torn away from once-hot metal. She heard Rico hiss and wondered if she, like her, would be scarred now too.

"I should have known…" she barely heard Rico whisper. "I should have known…"

"Boss! Boss where are you?"

_Oliver,_ Mercedes realized with a pain in her heart. _My squad…_ She didn't have the strength to call out to him.

"Ungabwe!" Rico yelled, her hoarse voice breaking halfway through his surname. "Over here," she coughed.

Mercedes blinked slowly. Her mind turned back to Marco. What had she done? What had she allowed to happen?

"Squad Leader!" Oliver shouted. Mercedes heard his hurried footsteps scramble over the rubble and topple burning timbers; small embers rained against her arm. "The Burning Titan's back. It's melting the boulder at the Trost gate!"

Mercedes' heart sank. What had she done?

"I'm aware it's back," Rico growled.

She heard Oliver helping Rico off the fallen cell door, and then the crunch of his feet grinding stones and coals into the floor. He came into her view, his kind face pinched in worry. Like it was little more than straw, he pulled the door off her and cast it aside.

"Boss, are you all right?" He helped her sit up and Mercedes coughed. As her hand rose to wipe hair out of her face, her bangle caught the firelight. She was fairly certain it was damaged now, like her, but didn't have the luxury of time to inspect further.

_I have to fix this,_ she thought. _Marco… _She looked to her right, where Marco – the Burning Titan – was stepping away from the Trost gate. Its gaping maw glowed yellow and red and dripped to the ground, cooling, and leaving the breach once more. Smaller Titans were already beginning to come through, their eerie faces made even more grotesque by the shadows. Cannons were firing as fast as they could manage but it didn't seem to do any damage to the Burning Titan. She watched the faint, shimmering figures of Garrison vanguard responders – mere tiny black marks at this distance, like sketches on the surface of Wall Rose – sail toward the towering inferno and when they got too close, catch alight and plummet like falling stars.

"Was this you?" Rico intoned. Mercedes looked up to see her staring down at her, her eyes narrowed behind their broken glasses. There were ugly marks from the bars of the cell door on her jacket, her right hand and the right side of her face but she otherwise seemed unharmed. "Answer me! Was this you?"

"I didn't let him in. I found him in the pantry," Mercedes whispered. "I knew him from my trainee days – we thought he was dead…I didn't…I didn't think he would ever…" she trailed off and clutched her stomach. "But it may have been my fault anyway."

Rico was silent for a moment before she crouched beside Mercedes. Reluctantly, Mercedes met her gaze; Rico searched her face and her expression did not change, but her eyes grew uncertain. She stood. "Get up," she commanded, with the faintest note of encouragement in her voice.

Mercedes did so and Rico stared at her a moment longer. Then, without any further commands Rico walked, then jogged, away toward the Wall. She fired a line at what nearby buildings remained intact and was gone.

Not a moment later Baena and Fhalz jumped down from another building, detaching their lines. Baena had Mercedes' gear slung over her shoulder.

"Come on, we need to help the evac," Baena said as she thrust Mercedes' gear in her direction.

Mercedes took it and out of habit more than anything else, reverted to muscle-memory and put it on – it resettled her bodyweight into a new balance that also tried to resettle her mind, and in the face of the chaos she clung to it. With her squad around her, she began to feel more grounded even though her heart and mind continued to spin.

"'Cee?" Oliver prompted. He was staring intently at her. "That's not what we're going to do, is it?"

_Oliver always knows the truth. That's all he can see,_ Mercedes reflected.

"You said you knew him," he repeated. "Maybe we can use that."

"What?" Fhalz gasped.

They turned as the Burning Titan suddenly ran from Trost's gate. Its footsteps shook the ground and its path tore up anything in its way as it sped past them.

"Holy fucking shit, it's headed for the next gate!" Baena shouted.

The Burning Titan slammed into Trost's inner gate, glowing brighter than seemed possible.

"It's melting that gate too!" Fhalz said.

"Up," the word tumbled out of Mercedes' mouth. "We have to get up."

Her squad glanced over their shoulders to where she was looking – what seemed to be a horde of Titans was streaming into Trost from the breached gate. It wouldn't be long before the entire area was overrun. Civilians were stumbling into the streets littered with fiery debris and beginning to run, but stopping when they saw the Burning Titan in front of their only way of escape.

She wasn't quite sure what they'd do when they got there, but Mercedes ordered, "Jaguars, to the roof."

Lines were fired at the nearest tall building – one of the granary silos – and the four of them sailed up toward it. When they landed they could better see how the people moved like a dark flood through the streets and alleys, veering around chunks of fire and dodging falling buildings; the Titans were drawn after them. Over them, like an aura, glimmered the light from the Burning Titan. The night air had been stirred into wind by the heat, making the flames taller, and carried with it the metallic stench of charcoal.

"Listen to me," Mercedes grasped at her fleeting rationality. "Baena, I need you to find Jean, and find Commander Erwin. They should still be in Sina. The Garrison can't do this alone. Fhalz, Oliver – we're going after Marco."

Fhalz began confusedly, "Mar–"

Oliver pressed a hand to his chest to silence him, and nodded at the Burning Titan's back.

"You saw those other soldiers, 'Cee," Baena said, stepping closer to peer into her face. She jerked her head back at the breach in the first gate. "They went up like moths if they got too close. We can't attack it. What're you going to do?"

"I don't know," Mercedes admitted. "But if I can get through to him, and Oliver and Fhalz can divert the civilians into safe pockets so that the Garrison can establish a protective perimeter…" She looked away. How was she supposed to tell them that it was still the people she feared?

"It's fine, we trust you," Baena said. She turned to leave.

"Baena be careful," Fhalz warned.

"I will. I'll be back!" She sprinted into the night.

Mercedes leapt forward too, Oliver fanning out on her left and Fhalz on her right, as the Burning Titan broke through Trost's inner gate and into the town beyond. Wall Rose had been breached.

* * *

><p>"What the ever-loving fuck is that?" Sasha exclaimed, and pointed. It was enough to draw nearly the entire rescue mission convoy to a stop.<p>

The inclined land of western Sina, on the way to the Reiss chapel, gave them a decent view of the outer southern districts. Except now they could see a trail of smoke and fire leading from the outer Trost gate to a huge, fiery figure stepping almost leisurely through the inner gate at Wall Rose.

Jean halted his horse and felt his jaw drop. _It's back. The Burning Titan – like Mercedes said. It's real._ He searched for Commander Erwin through the crowd of Survey Corps soldiers that had joined them on the mission to save Eren and Historia.

"It…it breached the Wall. It breached the Wall!" Connie said.

Jean navigated his horse away from the middle of the convoy, unable to tear his eyes away. The more he looked at it, and the more the screams and bells were carried to them on the wind, the more he thought of Mercedes and the angrier he became. Judging by the faces of Hanji and Levi, they didn't know the Burning Titan existed. Commander Erwin made a couple of passes on the fringe of the convoy, calming everyone, and as he then headed toward the front to confer with Levi, Jean couldn't take it anymore.

"Why didn't you tell them?" he shouted at Erwin.

Erwin's head snapped around as he looked in Jean's direction. His brow was drawn down but Jean couldn't tell if it was in confusion or anger – he didn't much care.

"You see that?" he held an arm out to indicate the Burning Titan, which was making its way to Wall Sina, now. "Are you happy now? When were you going to tell them about the Burning Titan?"

"Kirstein," Erwin began, turning his horse and heading back his way.

"Or were you just going to leave it to Mercedes to deal with? Just like you left her to deal with having to potentially kill the King if your plan fell apart? What else are you going to let other people take the fall for? Are we going to turn our backs on this, too?"

Erwin's horse was beside his, now. "She chose," he growled, his eyes ablaze. "I did not abandon her." He raised his voice, "We must focus on Eren and Historia. Any minute now it could be too late for them. We have to have faith in the Garrison's abilities."

"You _are_ abandoning her and _all_ of those people!" Jean retorted into his face. "What good is a savior if there's no one left to save? What good is a queen without a kingdom? Why follow faith if it leads you to a god that doesn't care if your world is burning?" When Erwin didn't reply, he said, "I'm leaving. I'm not going to abandon them. I'm not going to abandon her." Though it made him a little nervous, he added, "Anyone who wants to come with me can."

Jean directed his horse away from the Commander and tried not to look too long at the anxious, angry or shocked faces of his fellow Scouts. He was expecting a disciplinary shout from Erwin or Levi but none came, surprisingly. He paused by Armin and Mikasa, their faces distraught. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. "I won't blame you for still going after Eren. You have to help those you love. That's why I have to go."

Mikasa's face took on resignation and empathy. "I understand. I'm sorry I can't go with you."

"Don't be," he shook his head. Armin said nothing, his face becoming conflicted. Jean moved away, weaving through the crowd and not expecting anyone to follow. There were mutterings and nervous stampings of hooves.

"The two of us – we're coming with you."

Jean turned to a familiar voice as two more horses stepped into pace with his. He met the striking stern green eyes belonging to Eve Marks, a recent and late addition to the Scouting Legion. Beside her was her younger, taller and blond shadow, Alois. Her pale face, as usual, didn't betray any particular emotion other than severity of opinion; she swiped loose strands of her auburn hair back from her forehead, her gaze trained on the Burning Titan in the city below. Alois' face was more concerned. Though Jean wasn't as close to them as he was with, say, the other surviving members of the 104th, he was grateful for their support.

"No love lost for Eren, still, I see," he commented as he looked ahead once again.

"Mercedes and her squad were good to my people when we got here. Plus, that thing down there is getting near their farms. I'm just returning a favor," she said noncommittally. "I don't owe Eren anything."

"Well, thanks," he said. "Come on."

As they picked up speed Jean was surprised to hear a fourth set of hoovefalls. Erwin fell into stride beside him. Jean glanced at him only briefly and otherwise kept his focus on the grassland in front of him. "Come to persuade me to turn around?" he suggested.

"The rest of the troupe will go to the chapel and down into the caverns as planned," Erwin replied by way of explanation. "Eren could be our only hope for dealing with that Titan. In the meantime, we'll do what we can from up here."

"Why are you coming?" Eve shouted from slightly behind them.

After a moment's hesitation Erwin said, "Because I didn't realize at the time, when I asked those things of her, that it would open the door to something much worse."

His horse sped into the lead; they found the road they'd veered onto and traced it back into the suburbs of Sina. Shortly the hooves of their horses were clattering on the cobbles. Some of the sleepy residents were beginning to filter into the streets, having heard the warning bells from the other side of the Wall. Even at this distance, Jean could hear the cannons on Wall Sina coming awake, too. The light from the Burning Titan lit up the underbellies of the clouds.

Jean soon became aware that they were being followed by a tall figure on maneuvering gear. After debating whether it was friend or foe, he heard his name being called.

"Jean! It's Baena, Mercedes' squadmate! Is that Commander Erwin with you?"

Jean recognized the voice and though Erwin seemed confused, they did not slow their pace. Baena, however, kept pace with them.

"Yes! Where's Mercedes?" he shouted back.

"Let me on behind you; I need to conserve gas."

Jean slowed and came to a stop beside a low eave, and Baena dropped neatly on behind him, gear and all. She stowed her blades and wrapped an arm under his shoulder and they took off again, catching up with the others. "She and the rest of my squad are following the Burning Titan. It's headed for the Sina gate! It melted the others."

"What?" His mind reeled. "What does she think she can do?"

"I don't know but she said it was someone she knew once. I think she's hoping she can talk to it since we can't attack it."

If Jean hadn't been uneasy before, he definitely was so now. "Someone she knew? So it's a shifter."

"Yeah, someone named Marco, I think she said."

Jean nearly fell off his horse as his heart dropped into his stomach. "No. That can't be right. Marco… He's dead. That can't be right…" he moaned, shaking his head. He repeated it over and over to himself and sped past the other horses, as if the sooner he closed the distance the sooner he would have confirmation that Baena had misheard.


	19. Chapter 19: The Hanged Man, I

**Chapter 19: The Hanged Man**

As he made his way toward Wall Sina and the gate at Ehrmich District, Marco could feel himself tiring. The flames covering his Titan body weren't as tall and didn't burn as strongly. Destroying both of Trost's gates had taken a lot of his energy, so rather than sprint he had decided to walk for this leg of what seemed to be the longest journey of his life. He would remain impervious to attack as long as the flames surrounded him, and hoped that the slower pace would help him recoup enough energy to break down the final two gates. There was only a slim chance that he'd have enough energy to both recover Jean and Mercedes and to escape with them, but he had to try, even though he had no idea where Jean was. Otherwise his agreeing to the mission would have all been for naught.

He was vaguely aware that Mercedes and two other soldiers had followed him, and now that they were halfway between Wall Rose and Wall Sina her two companions had split away to either side of the main road up which he traveled. While it'd make it easier for him to take Mercedes, he was worried that she was going to try something rash. He could see the small and dark shapes of soldiers flitting over the rooftops around his calves, but they did not attack him – instead, they headed past him. Curiosity got the better of him and he peered closer, realizing they somehow carried guns on their gear and that they were Military Police rather than Garrison soldiers.

_Why would the Military Police leave Sina? I've never seen gear like that before,_ he thought.

There was the sound of rifles firing behind him.

_What could they be firing at? It's not at me._ Against his better judgment but in favor of his instinct, he turned.

"Get her!" he heard a faint shout.

_'Cee,_ he realized. _What are they doing?_

They were swarming around her to channel her into the main road, firing at her to strike seemingly close enough but deliberately missing. Mercedes was dodging but not engaging, and as a result she effectively obeyed their directions.

Marco felt a roar build up in his chest and hurtle from his lungs. He struck out at the soldiers, smashing a fist into a warehouse, and swiped at them like flies. Though he caught a couple off guard, the others continued their task – they and Mercedes raced past him again on their way to the Wall. He roared again and pursued.

Suddenly, something was shot from the top of the gate housing. Mercedes was hit in her leg and cried out; when she was pulled off the roof onto the road, Marco realized it was a harpoon of some kind.

_No…no. No!_

The line was retracted, dragging her at great speed through toward the gate while she screamed. Marco bellowed too and charged, watching in panic as the line lifted her from the road and up the Wall. Figures at the top pulled her over the edge and out of sight.

Though he could feel himself continuing to weaken and darken, Marco pushed himself to reach the gate. There wasn't any such thing as the mission anymore, no such thing as the gates or greater objectives – there was only her, and he surrendered utterly to his promise to her. And if he had to he would gladly become a traitor to everyone on this earth, gladly die, if it meant he could keep it. Cannons on the Wall began to fire at him.

* * *

><p>Mercedes groaned and shook, clutching her right thigh and the arm-length harpoon spearing it. She barely had the energy to look around her to see those that dragged her up here, but could tell that the opposite end of the harpoon's line was anchored to a cannon. The rest of her body had been torn up from the road, adding to the injuries from Marco's toppling of the Trost Garrison HQ.<p>

"Hang her over the side. They need to see," said a familiar voice.

Mercedes tried to lash out when hands encircled her arms; she thrashed and growled as they dragged her yet again. As they tipped her over the opposite edge of the Ehrmich gate, Mercedes also saw Commander-in-Chief Zackly's face. She slipped backward into the abyss of a crowd's shocked murmurs, and heard the Burning Titan's scream as her own.

The line snapped taut, whipping her entire body. Mercedes made a sound she'd never thought she'd make as the barbs of the harpoon were pulled backward into her flesh again, ripping skin and muscle but not dislodging. Blood trickled down her thigh and over her stomach, creeping toward her heaving chest. She swung in front of the gate above the stunned faces of the woken Ehrmich civilians, clutching each other in fear in the firelight.

_You have to make yourself lighter,_ that primordial urge to survive told her. She wrangled with the fastenings of her gear until it came loose and fell to earth with a clatter. _Now pull yourself up – you have to hang upright for the sake of your leg._ But she couldn't manage it – every inch she tried to lift her upper body was excruciating. She heard Marco roar again and the cannons shoot another volley.

"Do you hear that?" Zackly's voice boomed into the night over the crowd. She could just about make him out at the top of the gate. He jabbed an arm in her direction. "This is who is responsible!"

His words sapped her of what little strength she'd been summoning. _Just like Granna said – it's happening. They've brought me to slaughter. It was only a matter of time and I was too late._

Mercedes let her head, free leg and arms fall; her own blood dripped onto her face. Every swing of the line sent jabs of pain through her entire body but it was nothing compared to the havoc in her soul. All of her fears, all of her nightmares, every paranoid thought was coming true. Wailing incomprehensibles started to escape from her mouth as Zackly's voice drilled into her skull.

"This traitor is Mercedes Carello – the Burning Titan is here for her! She allowed it into our Walls when she failed to kill King Fritz – what's to stop her from trying to kill the new, true monarch? She is determined to ruin this kingdom, humanity's last stronghold! She has pulled the wool over your eyes. She has humiliated and used humanity for mere sport while she waited to watch it all burn. I offer her to you so that you can do the same – so that _you_ can offer the same justice that she has offered you by bringing terror to your doorstep!"

Someone fired at her – she felt it disturb her hair. Then another, and another. The crowd was growing louder. There were shouts and cheers.

_I must have deserved this. Otherwise why would they be doing it? Maybe I was wrong and they weren't the true monsters after all. Maybe it was me. I'm sorry to prove you wrong, Jean. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise._

The world seemed to shudder as Marco slammed into the gate, but did not break through. Some distant part of her reasoned that he must finally be weakening, and not be able to melt the stone. Another part of her – or was it all of her, now, like Zackly and the crowd proclaimed? – wanted him to break through and burn them all.

"I propose a barter. Why not allow the Titan to take her in exchange for our gate?" Zackly continued. "She is as much a monster as it is. Why not return kin to kin?" Shouts of agreement. The gate was struck again; Mercedes' line wobbled and showered her with more warm droplets of blood like a macabre baptism.

_I'm going to die here. That's what they always wanted, after all. Maybe if I'm dead, they'll have peace. Maybe it was me all along; maybe that's why Marco lived and returned – to spell the end. Maybe this is how it was always meant to be. Levi was right, back then – I am nothing but poison._

More shots were fired at her – one grazed her jaw and another struck her arm and though she twitched, she didn't cry out. Someone yelled triumphantly.

_Jean, I'm so sorry. We weren't meant to have that life I dreamed of._

She didn't have the strength to do anything in her defense, even if she had the will. The world was becoming hazier than it already was as blood rushed to her head. The hot wind wrapped around her and turned the shouts and the pounding on the gate and Zackly's voice and her own thoughts into mere echoes.

* * *

><p>Their horses reared and whinnied as they nearly ran into the backs of a crowd of civilians and Military Police. The ground shook as something – presumably the Burning Titan – hammered on the gate and firearms were being discharged, but the crowd didn't seem too concerned. In fact, the square seemed filled with vicious celebration.<p>

"What the hell is this?" Jean scanned the area for an answer.

"Zackly," Erwin growled, and Jean picked out a voice he wasn't familiar with orating from the top of the gate.

Baena leaned in to his shoulder, peering toward the gate. He felt her body grow rigid and heard her gasp. "'Cee! No!" the sounds were dragged out of her throat. "No!" She struggled against him and Jean instinctively slung a hand behind him to steady her and keep her on the horse.

Jean traced her line of sight to a shadow in a shadow – a figure suspended on a line in front of the shield of Wall Sina on the gate. Long hair waved in the wind. His throat constricted as though someone had grabbed it and squeezed hard. _No, this can't be… She can't be…She would never…What's going on?_

"They're shooting at her," Eve said, letting shock creep into her voice.

Jean felt and heard his blood and horror thundering in his ears. The sudden realization that Mercedes had been awfully right made him ache. This was humanity's true face – the humanity that would string up a blameless young woman in front of children to watch her die while the fires of hell were blazing at their door, and call it justice.

Instead of helplessness, Jean was surprised to feel a similar fire burning in his chest. It was as though a veil had been lifted. Suddenly all the people around him were one and the same – without rank and of equal potential for good as well as evil – and they were all in his way. Just as Mercedes had been hung before them as some sort of sacrifice, warning or trophy – whatever sick thing it was – for him she hung there as the exact opposite: every concept of comfort, virtue and peace that he had ever dreamt of since he was a boy. And now they were threatening to snuff it out.

He gritted his teeth, clenching the reins of his horse in his hands to stop their furious, desperate shaking. "I'm going for her. Erwin, if you can shut that bastard up – Baena, I need you and Eve and Alois to do some crowd control. Stop the firing and get them away from the gate – it could be struck down any moment now."

"Let's go!" Erwin yelled.

Jean and Erwin took an empty back alley that curved toward the gate; through the gaps between the buildings he glimpsed Baena, Eve and Alois pushing into the crowd and fanning out, shouting at the top of their lungs. When he was close enough, wordlessly Jean fired a line into the Wall and was lifted from his horse. The white of Erwin's own horse continued on without him like a pale gleam on the dark water of the street.

"Mercedes!" he screamed. He called her name over and over as he soared closer, but it didn't elicit a reaction. He prayed that his worst nightmares hadn't already come true.

Shots were fired at him and his peripheral vision told him that he was being followed; ahead, another soldier was coming down from the Wall to intercept him. Cannons continued to fire at the Burning Titan just as it continued to slam itself into the gate, and he could hear it calling out into the night. The call seemed more desperate than angry, he thought. Considering it had melted the other gates and wasn't doing so now, was it finally running out of strength?

Jean dodged another bullet and with a decisive spin and flick of his blades, injured his interceptor. All attention to performing properly and accurately was gone, replaced by the singular need to reach Mercedes. The surface of the Wall on his right and the dark mottled expanse of the crowd on his left created a tunnel, and he blocked out all else.

_This can't be the end for us. This can't be the end. We promised. We struggled to get this far – too much for it all to be over now. Please don't give up, 'Cee. There's so much in our future._

His left shoulder was jolted by a bullet's impact and he hissed, regained his step and fired another line, continuing forward regardless. Only one more arc – one last swing would take him in front of the gate.

_Don't give up. I need you._

Jean fired a hook into the gate housing some distance below Zackly's feet, detached his other line. Mercedes hung motionless directly in front of him like the stilled pendulum of a clock. He threw himself forward, readying a blade to cut her line, to save her and insodoing save himself…

The Ehrmich gate burst into pieces, and through the rubble emerged a huge hand dark as the stone. It opened, reached, and enclosed Mercedes in its fist right before his eyes.

Jean was only partially aware of the flying rubble and the scattering crowd, and even less of the angry screams erupting from what felt like his entire body. The Titan's hand drew back through the gate and snapped the line that'd held Mercedes. It was gone and Jean was forced to dodge the flying rubble. He fought his way to the top of the gate and once there, scrambled to the other side. Erwin joined him.

The Burning Titan had stumbled at first, but was now sprinting back the way it had come. Its fire was now confined to its head, neck, spine and legs, leaving the rest to glow like smoldering coals or, in the case of its right hand, become completely black and cold.

"No!" Jean shouted at its retreating back and readied his gear. He felt tears stinging his eyes and all the clarity he'd found earlier dissipate.

"Stop," Erwin instructed. His one remaining hand latched onto Jean's arm.

"I can't just let it take her!"

"I'm not asking you to!" Erwin shouted back. "We will pursue it but not with maneuvering gear and not on our own. It's headed back out beyond the Walls and we don't have the strength to follow it as we are now through the Titan hordes that are now flooding Trost and the rest of Wall Rose's territory," he growled. "We need to regroup and determine where it might be going. If it took her then it will not harm her."

"It took her," Jean repeated listlessly. He blinked and a couple of tears fell. As if they'd taken his strength with them, he felt himself wilt and collapsed to his knees. The wound in the back of his shoulder began to throb but it was small in comparison to the gaping hole he felt in his heart.

Erwin stood upright. "We'll get her back," he said. "You clearly love her and that is a kind of faith – let it sustain you, but don't let it blind you. No matter how hard it is. Unfortunately the best in us is often forged in fire, although I'm sorry that this has to be the way it's forged in you."

Erwin's rare but sincere apology settled on Jean like a cool hand on his forehead. The Burning Titan scrambled over the Wall as he, Jean, had done, and out of sight. His world seemed to fall dark.

* * *

><p><strong>A Note From the Author:<strong> Phew! Heavy chapter, sorry about that guys! Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. For those that are curious, the chapter title 'The Hanged Man' is indeed a reference to the Tarot card.


	20. Chapter 20: The Hanged Man, II

**Chapter 20: The Hanged Man, II**

Erwin turned away from Jean and the screams of the people of Wall Rose. His gaze alighted on Zackly, who was pushing himself upright from where Erwin had struck him down. The older man's bloody grin incensed him further.

"This wasn't what you wanted, Erwin?" Zackly goaded. "I was only exploring one of the ways to skin a cat, since yours didn't work out in the end."

Erwin felt Jean surge to his feet behind him. Before the youth could make the lunge past him at the Commander-in-Chief Erwin struck out on his behalf with a kick to the side of Zackly's head. He toppled to the parapet and Erwin stood over him, his fist clenched. The accusation appalled him to his very core in a way he hadn't felt in some years – the thought of Mercedes hanging there like a shred of meat being something of his design was disgusting. "This was never what I wanted," he growled. "Your methods – your motives and morals – were never mine."

He felt like he was drowning in all that'd happened the past few hours, weeks, months. But he had just assaulted his commanding officer – twice – and now members of the Military Police were converging on them with blades drawn and rifles at the ready. As usual, his personal reflections would have to be confined for later. If he and Jean fought them off now nothing would be accomplished – he would have to appeal to the people.

Erwin stepped up to the edge of the Wall. "People of Ehrmich!" he shouted. Some paused their scattering away from the debris of the gate, and he stopped the others with, "Listen to me!" He scanned the area and had difficulty controlling his ire as he continued, "Let me tell you the truth about the Carellos, the family whose last child the Commander-in-Chief decided to use as a scapegoat for an unexpected horror! Esteban Carello – Garrison Squad Leader – murdered for proposing a way to establish a supply route to both retake Wall Maria _and_ glimpse the world outside it. Julia Carello – contributor to advancements in our maneuvering gear and inventor of advanced firearms that were then oppressed by the government – as a warning, punished by being shot with her own invention." His voice grew angrier. "Valentin Carello – Garrison soldier – campaigned for further investigation into the suspicious rise and cure of the unknown plague of 830; consequently murdered. Joaquin Carello – Scouting Legion – one of the top-performing soldiers as well as a prominent contributor to the veterinary science that keeps our horses healthy; died in an 'intellectual dispute' in the Interior after the return of the 32nd Expedition.

"Alejandro Carello – also a Garrison soldier – like his brother, also campaigned for an investigation into the plague of 830, also murdered for speaking out. Rafael Carello – Military Police, in the former King's personal guard – murdered for mere familial association with weapons that would apparently harm the King he protected. Léon and Amaranta Carello – independent scouts who not only kept the Scouting Legion supplied for many years, but contributed significant research that supported otherwise fragile missions; disappeared in that service. What are they guilty of other than the utmost loyalty?"

His throat was raw but still he continued – it'd become a personal vendetta though he hadn't wanted it to. What did it matter now? "You have systematically wiped out almost every member of the family that has been most supportive of your freedom! Their blood is on _your_ hands! If you believe that a young woman born of that family would truly lead the most terrible of Titans to us, then you are less than human and deserve to be devoured by _your_ kin! She sacrificed everything, when you could not, to serve you by being the one to dirty her hands and kill your false idol, offer you the clarity that Commander-in-Chief Zackly promised and betrayed – she would have taken that shot in _your _name! And what did you do? You strung her up like an animal. You shot at her. You would have even exchanged her soul for yours if it meant just one more night in your beds.

"If it's a villain you want, look no further than the Commander-in-Chief – look no further than me! Punish me instead!" He held his arm wide and waited for a bullet, an arrow or even another harpoon, but the crowd remained stunned, silent and motionless.

Fuming, Erwin looked back down at Zackly, whose face had grown expressionless. He couldn't tell what the Commander-in-Chief was thinking, and frankly, he didn't care, just as he didn't care that he had quite possibly tainted the public's opinion of him forever. His time to make amends with them was over; he had to focus on laying the groundwork for the future and, if it could be done, seek at least a small forgiveness from those he had personally destroyed; his foot nudged the line that had hung Mercedes and it may as well have been made of the noose intended for him. He stepped away.

"When you get tired of blaming others, of sacrificing the innocent – we have work to do," Erwin said lowly. He glanced at the Military Police soldiers that had originally come to, he assumed, arrest them. "Take him away," he jerked his head at Zackly. To his surprise, they obeyed.

His gaze then fell on Jean, whose eyes were gradually growing less wide. Idly, he wondered what the younger man thought of him now. He tipped his head to indicate they should leave the Wall, and wordlessly they anchored lines and lowered themselves down. At the bottom, they could see Military Police soldiers beginning to organize the crowd and take over moving them away from the struck-down gate, allowing the taller shapes of Eve, Alois and Baena on horseback to become more visible as they wove their way nearer to meet them.

"Do you understand why I didn't allow you to strike the Commander-in-Chief? Why I was the one to accuse and reprimand the crowd?" Erwin asked quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jean turn to him, his face still strained with the dregs of his anxiety but clearly making an effort to think about the question. "I think so. But I don't see why you felt the need," Jean answered.

Erwin managed a sad smile. "Mercedes was made to take the blame for the Burning Titan – that was something I began. The least I can do is take the same punishment for the old order of things, end the cycle of hidden agendas, so the way will be clear and blameless for your generation and everything you do in humanity's name. I've wrecked too many lives to atone for them all, but maybe I can be forgiven in the eyes of one."

"Come on! We can still track it if we hurry!" called Eve as she trotted the rest of the distance between them, Erwin and Jean's horses in tow.

"Jean, I want you to lead the rescue operation," Erwin said. "Take a small contingent and track down the Burning Titan. It seems to have undergone a change of heart in light of the fact that it kidnapped Mercedes instead of breaking all the way through the gates or killing her – perhaps it can be persuaded to act in our service as Eren does."

Jean stood a little straighter and took the reins of his horse. There was a small amount of dubiousness in his expression but he didn't speak of it. "What about you?" he warily asked instead as they both re-mounted.

"I will deal with everything here. Hopefully the mission to rescue Eren and Historia has gone well, in which case she will still need to take the throne, even in the midst of all this. Not to mention that the Titans are spreading farther inland every minute."

"The Jaguars are going with you," Baena immediately volunteered from her position behind Eve, and it made Erwin smile to hear the name. "We just need to get Oliver and Fhalz."

"I'll go, too," said Eve.

"What about your villagers?" Jean asked with a frown.

"I'm going back to them," Alois said. "I'm sorry, but…I have a wife…"

"No," Jean raised a hand. "No, you should. Don't be sorry."

After a moment Alois nodded at them and exchanged a further look with Eve, and then spurned his horse away from the group, back the way they'd come.

"You should hurry," Erwin prompted them. "Make sure your supplies are adequate – while we'll try our best, there may not be much for you to come back to." He turned to Jean as he walked his horse past his, "Good luck, and have faith."

Although his back was turned on them now, Erwin heard the trio spurn their horses onward, navigating their way out of the ruins of the gate. He felt his last shred of clarity go with them, leaving him with the same sense of disruption he'd felt in the darkness of his cell the morning of his trial. As he galloped up the street in the direction of the Interior, he reflected on what he'd done. Nothing was the same anymore.

He hadn't known Zackly would eventually frame Mercedes; but in doing so, and in seeing what the people – the very people they had endeavored to save – had then done to her and her family, Erwin wondered what exactly he'd been fighting for all these years. The coup had been successful, yes, and he believed that the rescue of Eren and Historia would also be successful. But what did it matter, now? The people did not know what to believe in even when a falsehood was taken away; they acted like the very Titans they feared given the slightest motive. Meanwhile those that fought and were maimed and died for them had no peace, and surely they were the ones that deserved it most?

Would they really find that peace in a new monarch? What was there to be a monarch of, now? Whoever survived the breaches and the riots would be so few and so twisted that it would be a court of hell. There wouldn't be any humanity left – he had glimpsed that future in the face of the child raised on its father's shoulders through the smoke to better see Mercedes' hanging.

Erwin galloped past the group of Military Police that were leading Zackly away. He galloped past the fleeing civilians with their frightened children in one hand and guns in the other. The palace was in sight – a dark citadel that did not contain any hope, but existed as a place where it might be kindled. He rode forever uphill, forever inward.

He thought of his father and the hushed tones with which he'd spoken of the outside world. Those theories had given Erwin purpose as a youth but had brought his father only death. They had driven him into the Scouting Legion and thus the lands outside the Walls, the endless sky that could still feel so small when filled with the cries of the dying. His father's words had driven him to compel others and that compulsion was their murder from _his_ first word as their commanding officer. In seeking freedom and salvation from the nightmare he had become even more crippled and criminal by their blood on his hands, just as guilty as those that'd strung Mercedes up. His purpose had always directed him to look outward, forward. Now, he was being forced to look inward, and back. As uncharted as the outside world still was and how clouded their origins, it was never as dark and unmapped as his own soul was now. The idea of finding some light in it all was fanciful – almost absurd.

_And still I seek it._


	21. Chapter 21: The Mission Begins

**Chapter 21: The Mission Begins**

Despite the danger, there was no time to do anything other than go through the Trost gate. They had managed to retrieve Oliver and Fhalz from herding civilians now that the Military Police seemed to be leaking out of Sina and into the surrounding towns, and the closer they'd ridden to the melted gate the more Titans they'd seen. Rather than engage they had dodged whenever they could, but it was getting harder to do. Oliver had suggested that the Trost HQ, despite being destroyed, would have its basement gas supplies intact and that they should try there to refuel, as well as hope for horses.

Around them Titans ambled and Garrison soldiers sped after them, while burning buildings toppled or continued to blaze into the gray light of burgeoning morning. In the chaos the streets had become a maze, with thoroughfares blocked by debris and scattered with corpses and the steaming dregs of felled Titans.

Every jump or sharp turn they took mimicked Jean's heart. The urge to get out, and after the Burning Titan, leapt further and faster than his horse. He led them – Eve with Baena seated behind her on horseback, Fhalz and Oliver in the air – with an unfortunate clarity. Not only was this his hometown, fire or not, but it was as if he could see the Burning Titan in front of him, feel that invisible thread that tied him to Mercedes pulling at his soul.

They quickly diverted their course to avoid the thundering steps of a ten-meter class, and practically ran into the rubble of the HQ just as they'd run into the crowd back at Sina. Again they diverted, headed around what would have been its back and in the direction of the stables. The roof was on fire and while Jean could see that some horses had gotten free only to be crushed or trampled, he could hear whinnies that mixed with cannonfire and the calls of the Garrison. Not far away rose the broken gate.

"Refuel as fast as you can!" he said as Fhalz and Oliver came down to the ground and by their dash, pointed out the entrance to the basement to him. "We'll need the horses for spares."

"Here," Eve held up a hand to him, "I'll refuel your gas cylinders; you get the horses."

Jean nodded and with her help, disengaged and handed over his cylinders; Eve went after the others, who were throwing rubble out of the way of the ramp to the basement. For the sake of his horse's ankles he dismounted and led the mare over the corpses of its kin to the stable, tying her safely nearby and ducking inside.

"About fucking time! Help me out, here," came a familiar irritable voice.

Jean took a moment to look around the broken space and then spotted her. "Ms Julia, what in the world are you doing here?" he yelled.

"Getting a spare, what are you doing here?" She wiped her hair back from her sweating forehead and continued to free the terrified horses. Another moment's searching revealed Bashka tied up nearby, dancing nervously.

"Why are you getting a spare?" Jean continued, but helped as asked. Near where two had been crushed by a wall caving in, he was relieved to spot Sabine. He ran over to her and began to untie her.

"Because I have to go meet Mercedes. I sent her and Fhalz away – I promised I'd go find them," Julia shouted, leading the last two horses out of the stable. "Seemed the perfect time. I'm glad you're here! You're smart – you must have realized what what's going on!"

Jean frantically grasped at reins – Sabine's, and another two, and then struggled for a third. His movements matched the confusion in his brain. "What do you mean you sent them away?" he started with the most basic question first, and coughed on the heat.

"They're trying to frame her, Jean!" Julia shouted angrily.

There was no time to be gentle. "Julia they already have! The Titan that caused all this has taken her – I'm with the rest of Mercedes' squad and another Scouting Legion soldier to go after her."

Julia froze beside Bashka, almost letting go of the spare she'd retrieved. Her face spoke of crippling loss in the way the shadows and glints of the fire lined her face, dimming one eye and illuminating the other. Then after another moment, she frowned deeply and snatched yet another set of reins and hobbling away. Jean followed; as they returned to the courtyard in front of the HQ he noted Eve fetching his horse and Baena jogging over with his gas cylinders.

"Ms Julia!" Baena called.

They all regrouped and Jean reinstalled his gas cylinders. Horses were reallocated and mounted.

"Are you coming with us?" Fhalz asked incredulously, eyeing Julia.

Julia turned to him, and then checked the security of what seemed to Jean to be a non-standard rifle. She looked offended. "No, you're coming with me, you hellions."

The words were scarcely out of her mouth and she had snapped Bashka's reins, jolting off down the street.

Jean cursed under his breath. "Let's go!" 

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><p><strong>A Note from the Author:<strong> That's it for Part 1, everybody! I really hope you've enjoyed this - please let me know what you think. Reviews make my day! Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed thus far! Part 2 will begin soon!


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